


The God Machine

by Winterstar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I promise temporary character death only!, M/M, Porn With Plot, Temporary Character Death, different realities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 55,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A love story interrupted. After the world is conquered by the mysterious Ornari, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark lead the last of the resistance against the alien horde.  Together as Avengers and husbands, Steve and Tony set in motion a plan to save humanity and the Earth. The key to their plan depends on Steve hunting down the Wolverine.  Bringing Logan into the plan will be dangerous, not only because of the odds and what is at stake, but also because Logan once had a love affair with Steve Rogers. Saving the world is about sacrifice, both Tony and Steve know that, but are they ready to sacrifice everything they have together?</p><p>   <i>It is Steve who stops him, it is Steve who grips his shoulders and hauls him away. “Tony.”  He can’t speak, there are no words for his terror, for the knowledge of what they are up against.  Steve’s eyes search his face, his expression, before softly landing back on Tony’s. “I’m here, we’re going to win this. You know that, right?”</i></p><p>  <i>“Steve,” Tony says and everything, every ounce of his fears, of his love has been poured into that single word, the name of his love.</i><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The God Machine

**Author's Note:**

> I had the wonderful opportunity to work with a great artist and one of my fandom friends [digitalwave](http://digitalwave.livejournal.com). She supported the story and created beautiful art for it. She also has been a great support and friend throughout! So I must thank her for her excellent work!
> 
> I also must thank the absolutely brilliant [rabidchild](http://rabidchild.livejournal.com). RC has been nothing but lovely and truthful and brilliant. There were tons of problems with this story and she helped me out, told me where it needed fixes, was straight with me on the weaknesses, and also told me where I did good. I might not have changed everything she told me to, because I can be a terrible cuss sometimes. So all weaknesses or other issues I own myself and you can blame me! Thanks, RC, you deserve tons of credit!

LINK to ART WORK [The God Machine Artwork"](http://digitalwave.livejournal.com/570723.html)

Back in the day – when he’d first drove out of New York and the world was too noisy and his life too much like a comic book - Steve Rogers pretended that he would find a way to understand life again, he would find his place. He often shakes his head now at his naiveté. Those days had been reckless and some of the very few selfish days he’d ever allowed himself to have. He spent them traveling, alone, and then he looked up someone he’d known from the past, someone who shared a commonality. It had been good, those months with Logan, it had been carefree and fun, but, as always, Steve never turned his back on responsibility, on his oath to be a good man. He’d left Logan, walked out on him and their travels to go back and do his duty and rejoin the Avengers.

But now, he needs Logan. Now, as the world falls down and collapses under the weight of the aliens, the Ornari, the only way the resistance will ever succeed is dependent on Logan. It is Steve’s mission to find Logan, to bring him into the fold, into the resistance. They’d tried to find a different way, they’d even tried to sabotage the aliens’ core, the God Machine, but they lost Bruce in the process. Now, they have only one option – their plan to destroy the aliens by destroying the God Machine itself – depends on Logan. Even as he stands next to Logan in the dimly light bar, even as he smells the stench of old booze and fights, Steve knows his battle to convince Logan won’t be an easy one. Steve’s never been a great negotiator, but he’s always been reasonable. Logan knows this, so he’ll play on that, he’ll use it, Even if it is unfair, even if it will hurt both of them. 

“It’s gonna be you or me, just a matter of time before they catch up to one of us,” Logan says dragging Steve from his thoughts. Logan takes a long drag on his cigar and rolls the butt of it in his mouth, on his tongue. 

He watches Logan and grimaces. Steve doesn’t like it here, the tavern stinks of sweat and grime and urine and sex. He’s not a prude, but he likes things to be more polite, less crude. He comes from a time when people hid the ugly side of life, and he knows that doesn’t make it better, just different. He accepts that in some ways his upbringing shaped his attitude and character. Life can’t afford polite anymore, not since the invasion, not since the Ornari. He leaves those thoughts behind because he has a job to do, a task which holds the whole world’s fate and future in his hands. 

He taps the bar he’s leaning against and the bartender, a balding, overweight man with glasses perched on the top of his shining head, brings over a beer, pops the top, and leaves it in front of Steve. He wonders just how many reruns of Westerns he watched with Clint that could have been filmed here. It looks like something out of one of those old television shows. The tables are few and scattered, the glasses lined up behind the barkeep are filthy and dusty to boot. There’s a distinct lack of lighting in the place and all the wood looks like mold and fungus might be flourishing within its grain. Only a few stragglers haunt the place, but then nowadays people rarely come out, nowadays people stay in the shadows because what lurks in the daylight instills more fear than the darkness.

“I don’t intend for it to be either one of us, Logan.” Steve takes a swig of the drink. The beer is warm and, while he was in Europe during the war and got used to warm beer, he still likes it chilled. He wonders if the tavern even has a working refrigerator, probably not. He sets the bottle down and plays a bit with the label, peeling at it even though there’s no condensation on the glass. The label is home grown. It is rot gut beer, the only thing available out in the wastelands that had once been America’s bread basket. He chuckles a bit to himself, they probably always brewed their own – it didn’t take the fear of God to bring that to light. 

“You and what army is going to stop them?” Logan says. He pulls the cigar out of his mouth. It looks like it’s been chewed on like a dog toy. 

“The Avengers,” Steve says. “We’ve got a good team, Logan, we can do this. We can stop the Ornari.”

“A good team. Isn’t that what you said last time?” Logan twists his face as if the memories of long ago are faded and tattered, like the edges of a book. 

“The Howling Commandos?” Steve laughs. “You refused to join up then.”

“Don’t really remember. Did I, at least, help out?”

“You didn’t get in the way?” Steve replies and takes another sip of the beer. He only drinks it for old time’s sake since he cannot get drunk anyway.

“So these Avengers, they gonna beat back the big bad aliens?” Logan goads. He flips the cigar around in his hand, curling it around his knuckles, his lethal weapons.

“Done it before, we can do it again,” Steve says. 

Logan smirks and shakes his head. “You are the most naïve cuss I know. They send you out here, hopping across the good old U.S. of A. or what’s left of it to find me? I’m the sacrificial lamb, aren’t I?”

“No, I came here to appeal to you,” Steve says. “If we have any hope, we need you, Logan. Our plan won’t work without you.”

“You came here so that SHIELD could offer up a mutant to the damned aliens threatening to mutate every single human being on the planet to fuel their God Machine,” Logan hisses. His muscles tighten; the veins in his neck stand out. “They might have played nice at the beginning, but we all know that’s not the way it is.”

“Stand down, I am not here from SHIELD, or any government,” Steve says. He doesn’t want to admit it, not here, not out in the open. SHIELD limps along, trying its best to contain the invasion, the desolation of the entire planet. SHIELD is a figment; the Ornari once they came in and hit – they hit their competition hard. There are no real governments anymore, either. Logan knows that. 

“What - your boyfriend send you or something?” Logan looks past Steve. “So where is he? The flying tin can? He send his little messenger boy out to do his dirty work? From what I hear he’s one of the traitors. Gone to the other side, harvesting humans for the God Machine.”

Steve bites back his words. They need Logan; it took too long to work out a plan. If they don’t have Logan, they will fail. 

He chooses to ignore Logan’s blatant dislike of Tony and continues, “I don’t plan on sending you or any other person to them as a sacrifice.”

“So what do you plan to do, Captain America?” Logan asks, his anger barely contained. 

“I’m assembling the finest heroes, Earth’s best, and we’re going to stop this menace before they harvest any more of our people.”

“ _I’m_ assembling?” Logan raises an eyebrow. “Not we? Not the royal we to include the man of the hour himself?”

“If you want, we are assembling Earth’s best and brightest. But by ‘we,’ I’m talking about all of the Avengers.”

“You sound like a cartoon character,” Logan says but he settles down a degree and Steve takes that as a win. “You think a few mutants and enhanced freaks are enough to go against an alien race that wants to abduct our people to feed to their God Machine? You are a fucking pathetic idealist.”

Steve laughs a little; he’s used to people thinking that of him. Tony said the same thing – or something similar but with a lot more heat to it. “I figure right now people need a fucking pathetic idealist,” Steve says. Although they are out in the middle of what Tony would call butt fuck nowhere, Steve experienced, seen the war ravaging the aliens have done to his country, his people, his world; he’s experienced how much they’ve devastated the world. He wants to stop it, he intends to stop it. 

“You’re funny; you know that, real funny.”

“Does that mean you’ll consider it?” Steve asks, his hand poised over his beer bottle. 

“What’s the plan?” Logan rolls the cigar in his mouth again and quirks that eyebrow in challenge.

“Tell me you’ll be one of the team and I’ll give you the inside line.” Steve waits. He’s a patient man, but lives are on the line and he doesn’t have much time. 

“Why the hell not? I’m in.”

Steve offers his hand and Logan tilts his head as if considering his response. Steve reaches out further. Logan clasps Steve’s hand at last; the shake is firm, solid, and finished in a matter of seconds. 

“I’m going in.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Logan says.

“We don’t know where the God Machine is, all we do know is what Tony’s been able to hack,” Steve explains. “They want to harvest our people to fuel this machine. Every day humans – well don’t last long from what we’ve been able to find out. Without us, they are nothing, Logan, nothing. I can’t say more than that now, but the Ornari need us. We don’t need them. If we offer them me, then we can walk in their front door and get to the heart of their machine and destroy them. ”

“So you’re just going to walk up to one of their outposts and give yourself up?”

“Something like that,” Steve says. “Once they bring me on board, we’ll defeat them.”

“What, you don’t think the aliens - the superior aliens - won’t be able to squash the great Captain America like a bug?” Logan shakes his head. “I’m not seeing how you need me for this martyr thing you got going on.”

“I’m not a martyr and I plan very much not to die,” Steve says. “Come with me, and you will hear the whole plan. You stay here, you run for a good amount of time until they catch you, because they will,. One way or another, they will find you, Logan. It won’t be hard.”

“What with that dickhead, Reed Richards, spouting everything to them,” Logan tosses the last of his beer back and slams the empty bottle on the deeply grooved surface of the bar. 

“Not our Richards. That Richards from a different dimension sold us out if our Richards was here-.” 

“If our Richards was alive, we’d all be in hell already, don’t go there. We all know he would sell his soul for a little of what the aliens offered in the beginning.” Logan stands up and straightens his black leather jacket. “You ready to party, Cap?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve says and quells the wish that Tony had accompanied him. They don’t have the luxury of space and time and love anymore. All they have is the burnt-out embers of the world and a jerry-rigged plan to try and resurrect it. He’s not certain he’ll ever be ready. He’s as ready as he was when he piloted that plane into the Arctic Ocean seventy plus years ago. He zips his bomber jacket closed and grimaces. Tony would correct him; he didn’t pilot anything – he crashed it. 

He wonders if this is going to be the same type of operation, where he saves the world only to sacrifice himself. That’s not going to happen; he knows that, he trusts Tony to make sure that doesn’t happen. Yet so much rides on things they don’t know, things they could easily be getting wrong according to their intel. Intel is difficult to come by, they worked for months to set up one of their own, their best as a liaison within the aliens’ own ship. Even though he trusts that they’ve done their best, it is always possible what information they have is rigged to ferret them out.

Tony told him as much when they first scavenged the plan out of spit and wishes. What really ticked off Tony - or in his vernacular pissed him the fuck off - was that these aliens weren’t even from around here, they didn’t even belong in this dimension or universe or something. He’s not quite sure, physics isn’t his specialty. Reed Richards’ counterpart in some other reality slashed open the universes and crossed paths hoping to create some kind of hybrid that would save his doomed world. He accomplished only one thing: ripping open a portal and shoving through a massive alien invasion. It alerted the aliens that devastated his Earth to the opportunity to ransack another world. He can only assume a Steve Rogers doesn’t exist in that other reality. Otherwise, they aliens wouldn’t have come so far looking specifically for him.

“Are we going or you just gonna stand around and look pretty?” Logan leers at him, not trying to hide his attraction.

“We’re going, you have your bike?” Steve brushes by him, purposely knocking his shoulder, a little contact might seal the deal. He’s not ashamed of it. Things are different now, even before everything fell apart, and he suddenly became the de facto leader of the resistance. 

Logan turns at the contact, eyes him, and says, “Barely runs, but she’s still treating me good. I can think of something else would treat me better that I’d like to ride.”

“You flatter me,” Steve says and shoulders open the door. 

The town is a dustbowl of indigents and lost souls and this is one of the better ones in the region. At least here they have running water and some of the people still live above ground. Steve’s been on the road for over a month, hunting down clues to find Logan. He knows Tony must be half crazed waiting to find out if he’s hit the jackpot with the latest and greatest information they’ve been able to glean from the alien satellite network. 

Without Tony’s brilliance, the aliens would have been able to secure their complete surrender within weeks of their hostile actions against Earth. Of course, that was some time after the stupid politicians and world leaders spent hours of time being swayed to the aliens’ side. It still heats his blood to think they sold off their own world to aliens for a piece of a non-existent pie. If they only knew what they’d bargained for, Steve shakes his head. What is in the past will remain in the past.

He gestures for Logan to follow him and they pass a boarded-up gas station that looks like it took a direct hit from the alien blast guns, but it was probably just due to some locals trying to get to the fuel tanks buried below ground level. He jerks the lock on the garage door, and slides it open. He hid his bike in here.

“You still ride that thing?” Logan whistles behind him. 

“Probably better than what you have,” Steve replies and slings his leg over the 1942 Harley Davidson WLA Liberator. “I had to bust it out of the museum when things got a little rough. But it’s fitted for battle and Tony also retrofitted it with an arc reactor so that I don’t have to worry about fuel stops.”

“Now, that is sweet,” Logan admits. “Christ, nice to have a good piece of ass that’s useful too, huh?”

Steve feels the red flush his cheeks, but he keeps it easy and calm. 

The Wolverine glares at him and says, “So you gonna give me a ride to my bike, or you just gonna sit there looking pretty?”

“You know you’re an ass, Logan, right?”

“And you’ve been hanging around with Stark for too long,” Logan jumps onto the back of Steve’s bike and wraps his arms around Steve’s torso. 

Steve tries his best to ignore the press of thighs against his legs as he kicks the bike into balance and into gear. 

“What? No helmet, Captain America?”

Steve peers over his shoulder and smiles. “I don’t think either of us needs one.”

“Well, maybe you, but not me. Crap, I get shot in the head on a regular basis.”

“Really?” Steve twists the handle and the bike whines in protest. “How’d that feel?”

“It tickled, are we going now?” Logan asks.

“Just waiting for directions.”

“About a half mile out of town, near a burnt-out old Walmart,” Logan says. “You’d be surprised what you can still find in those abandoned stores.” 

Steve steers the bike toward the east side of the small town. He pushes it forward and notes there aren’t many people venturing outside. There never are, the whole Earth has been devoured by the alien invasion. After they finished playing nice, they sent down their buggers to devour the world – eat away at anything living, plant or animal. They tried to get humans to succumb, to surrender by scaring them. It only served to piss everyone off – as Tony tells it. 

What vegetation survives in the middle of the plains states crawls and creeps along the sides and edges of the buildings, in the cracks of the concrete, and along the fences and gates. But these people are lucky; the aliens have mostly stayed away from here, favoring the large metropolitan areas of the globe, but their distance hasn’t saved them. What the aliens left of the world, distributed across a hungry and needy population left everyone vulnerable to the vulgarities of survival of the fittest. It isn’t pretty or nice. This little town is one of the more functioning places Steve has been to since this whole nightmare began.

He leaves the nameless place behind and cruises up the broken roadway toward the outskirts of town. Keeping his eyes on the road, he steers the bike over the ragged pavement. The roads are overgrown with the vegetation, cracking it and peppering it with potholes. The last winter ate away at it, leaving it in further disrepair, Steve is sure. The old road signs direct him to the designated off ramp and he follows it toward the Walmart. 

As he climbs over the rise in the road, Steve spots the top of the large building’s roof. Half of it is caved in and he can see that the large windows which once displayed the sales and merchandise have been shattered for some time. Years, probably, considering that people need items, stuff that is not on the market or even produced anymore. There has been a great quantity of homespun articles making their way to the market. These days, markets are primitive at best and hidden from sight since the aliens are always scouring the landscape for more victims, until they find the perfect victim for their God Machine. 

He shivers as he thinks of their plans, their needs. The anticipation of being hooked up to the God Machine tightens his chest and he veers the bike a little too angled on the road. The Wolverine pulls them out of the curve with a quick sway of his body to force Steve back into the present. Logan’s mouth presses up against his ear as he mutters, “Keep your head on straight, I don’t want mine smeared all over the pavement, kid.”

Without replying, Steve follows the directions on the broken signs to the store. It is an odd thing, to trace the pathways of life – a life that isn’t true anymore, doesn’t exist anymore. They’ve become intruders in a phantom world. He brings the bike to a stop as he enters the abandoned parking lot, but it isn’t abandoned at all. There are several smashed-out cars and a few that look serviceable.

“Those were not there when I parked,” Logan says. “Get closer.”

Steve navigates the bike toward the few cars that, upon further inspection, look like they probably do run. 

“Son of a bitch,” Logan says. “Stop the damned bike.”

Steve follows the order and parks it. Logan gestures for him to stay put but Steve isn’t following the Wolverine’s commands. He grabs the shield that had been stashed in the front of the bike to look like a metallic, tricked-out barrier. He has it muddied up so no one will be able to recognize it. 

Logan curses him as he trails behind the mutant, but he doesn’t say anything. Steve knows he’s worried about the ride – but Steve isn’t about to let Wolverine anywhere out of his sight. He jogs the last few paces to catch up and they both duck into the empty store, suddenly standing in the dark. A rustling to their left draws them away from what little light is offered by the bashed out windows. Logan knows where he’s going and he’s mumbling swears as he follows the line of shelving. Steve half scans the shelves for anything useful; it has become habit to always look, always be aware just in case a jewel or nugget is to be found. 

What they find is a half dozen teenagers ransacking what’s left of Logan’s bike. Before he’s able to launch himself at the startled bunch, Steve throws himself in the way and putting a shoulder to Logan’s chest. His claws extended the Wolverine reaches outward but cannot break past him.

“Fucking let me at them,” Wolverine yells. 

“No,” Steve keeps his head down and his full weight pushed toward Logan’s chest. His booted feet slip on the tiled floor, but he stands his ground and the kids scatter. Once they’ve gone, Logan retracts his claws and curses, “God damn, son of a bitch. What the hell did they do to my bike?”

There’s not much left of it. Parts are strewn all over the floor, and the guts of the bike, like the engine and carburetor are gone. There’s no battery to speak of either. 

“They did what they had to do,” Steve replies and kicks a few of the parts with his boot.

“Shit, now what?”

“You ride with me,” Steve says with a shrug. “It’s better this way anyhow. If we’d taken your bike we’d have to look for fuel. Mine doesn’t need any with the arc reactor.”

“You do realize they’re probably out their stealing your bike right now?” Logan says and pulls the same disgusting cigar out of his jacket and chews on it. “God, I need a beer.” 

“No, they’re not,” Steve says as he clamps a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “And we got beer back in California.”

“Seriously, you are either deranged or the luckiest son of a bitch I know,” Logan comments as they pick their way through the ruins of the store. Steve studies the darkened store, looking for anything of use. He pockets a few cables and wires for Tony. He even grabs a broken bucket, the metal might be useful and it isn’t rusted, which is always a plus. 

“Garbage picking – a new high for Captain America,” Logan smirks.

“I like to call it recycling,” Steve says as they exit the store. The teenagers are nowhere in sight and his bike remains untouched. 

“What the fuck?”

Steve raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Tony did more than trick it out; he rigged it to give anyone a shock that might get too close to it without my DNA. If you approach the bike before I’m on it, you’ll get one, too.” Steve smiles. Being married to a genius has its perks.

“Nice. Think the little woman could do something for me,” Logan mentions as he circles the bike waiting for Steve to hop on. 

He chuckles in reply. “Say something like that and you’re guaranteed to never get him to do anything for you.” He swings his leg over the seat and then motions for Logan to join him. “Get on; I want to make the river before night fall.” 

“Don’t know if I like the idea of hitching my wagon to your train, considering if you get killed I won’t be able to use the bike.”

“Chop my hand off and use it, should activate the bike,” Steve says and waits.

“It should, should it?”

“In theory.” Steve frowns and looks toward the horizon. There’s a dark smudge like ink marring the landscape beneath the sinking sun. He tilts his head. “What do you make-.”

“Shit,” Logan says and leaps on the bike. “Go, go, go.”

“We can’t.” Steve doesn’t get the bike in gear right away, instead he’s staring back where the town is, where the last remnants of normality still exist in this hellish place they call Earth. He leans down and pulls out his binoculars from compartment near the back of the bike. Focusing on the town, he spots it. 

The buggers have arrived. It is like a fall of black hail that transforms into a horde of locusts descending upon the town. He knows what will happen next, he doesn’t need to see the alien horde flay flesh from bone. The buggers are the aliens’ first defense as well as their first offense. They are part of the alien commune, or pack – he’s not sure what to call it, they do the dirty work, they seek out and destroy, they feed the mass of aliens back in their ships. They are little drones from hell. Like locust they descend ravaging the Earth and every living thing.

“Come on,” Logan urges. “We have to get out of here.” He tugs at Steve’s hand.

“The town, the people.” He doesn’t want to see the massacre, but he knows nothing he can do will prevent it.

“Captain, they’re dead already,” Logan hits his foot to the clutch. “Go.”

Even as Steve debates his next move the ink stain spreads like a cancer across the sky, it darkens everything and they will be lucky to get out of the storm of the aliens alive. He thrusts the bike into gear and whips it around toward the west, and home. He wants to be home, he wants to see Tony again. Long tendrils of ink curve downward like fingers of god from the sky. Even from this distance he can hear people screaming.

“Go, Captain, before they find us, before we’re both toast,” Logan screams in his ear over the sudden howling of the alien incursion. 

Steve hits the accelerator and takes off , his destination toward home. He can only think of one thing though, the God Machine. He blinks away the fear. He has to believe their plan will work, he has to believe it, or he’ll never be able to do it. 

The underground corridors look nothing like the storied caves and tunnels of end of the world movies he recalls seeing long before the apocalypse scenario became a reality. These are clean, white, sharp, modern corridors with soft, pale lighting and curved ceilings. He recalls taking a page out of Steve Job’s book regarding form and function, how places and things that we touch and spend time in should reflect the beauty and grace of the natural world. He never expected to utilize the underground world underneath Stark Industries California as one of the last human settlements on Earth. 

The underground spread out miles underneath the headquarters and factories of SI. It had been compared to the underground world of Walt Disney World, a complete little city underneath the surface world. While he couldn’t claim that, exactly, he does know that the underground was not only a self-contained environment, but also runs independently of the city power grid and the water supply. All of this makes things easier.

When the Ornari first arrived, it had been like they’d watched all the old flicks with the shtick we come in peace. No visuals just audio and we come in peace. Lots of politics, lots of discussion, lots of scientists trying to figure it out. The aliens specifically asked for Reed Richards and he was shuffled off by the powers that be to meet with the yet to be seen aliens. 

He died.

Later, Tony would understand why they wanted Richards, because his understanding of other realities was a threat to their ultimate goal. Richards had been one of the first to die. Looking back, Tony knows they killed Richards because their Reed on their side of the reality gap had been the vehicle to cross over and to find a new Earth. They were looking for something – only later did they figure it out. Only later did Tony and everyone in the world understand that the aliens were nothing like they’d ever imagined in any science fiction book or novel or comic or movie. 

When their God Machine ate away at the world, devouring it, looking for what they called the perfect Seed. It scorched the Earth and what it did to people – Tony will never forget the first time he witnessed the buggers. The team sans Thor had attacked the main ship that hovered over New York City. While the attack raged, Tony flew recon and messaged back to Captain America the situation. When he saw the aliens stream down from the sky like ink wells tipped over and blotting out everything on a paper canvas, he stuttered. He couldn’t comprehend exactly what he saw. 

The lines of ink, or whatever the hell it was, drained down to the streets pooling in puddles. People racing down the streets as the ship hung over Manhattan stopped and stared, too bewildered to figure out that it was dangerous, that everything about the aliens was wrong and off and lethal. None of the people had to get close, it wasn’t necessary for the pools to morph and transform. The pools shifted and so did everything in life. The ripples turned into a tide of piercing daggers invading the flesh, stabbing through the strongest armor, bursting people from the inside out. The carnage had been hideous, the nightmares stunning. 

Tony still has trouble rectifying what he’d seen with what he understands of physics and biology. But the aliens are of no biology ever imagined. They are sentient liquid, if that even makes any sense. Their ships are great vats of an ink-like substance that takes on a form and function when necessary. They use minds and bodies of solid mass life forms to power their God Machine – the machine that helps them exist and gives them energy. How they evolved from primordial goo to a sentient liquid parasitically dependent on a host is still under debate, he’s sure.

Not one scientists or learned person on the whole planet can determine the history or how it all happened, though there are theories. Most of the theories hinge on the idea that the Ornari were once a sentient solid life form that somehow turned into this mass of co-existing liquid. All the Ornari exist together in one form, interacting and interrelating as one – as a liquid. Yet, the liquid does not have the actual properties of any normal liquid Tony knows. It has a viscosity that’s thick but can thin without external forces. It can take forms and it can function like a shapeshifter. Many think of the Ornari as shapeshifters, but in his head they are far from it. They can be any nightmare, any horror ever dreamed up.

Theirs is an evolution apart from anything.

The central core of their God Machine is like the brain and heart of their entire society. Without the Seed, they do not have sentience, without the Seed they become nothing more than primordial goo. They came here looking for the perfect Seed, because somehow in their reality, it did not exist. The perfect Seed powers the God Machine and is their actual living model of life. Unfortunately most life forms cannot survive the interlinking into the God Machine, some fault or physical weakness always breaks the connection. 

They need a perfect physical specimen to power their machine, their god for a lifetime or more.

Tony has no plan on allowing them to have what they seek. He frowns, he wishes it was as easy as the last time aliens attacked. It had been simple, straightforward, perfect and easy. This, this is complex and intricate. Yet, when he looks at their plan, it ends up being the same. Self-sacrifice and martyrdom seem to be a re-occurring theme for the Avengers. If only, their assaults on the aliens had worked.

When shit rained down from the sky and the world fell apart at the seams, the Avenger Initiative took up the mantle and failed. It hadn’t been due to any fault of the Avengers; the team fought until pure exhaustion caused them to scurry away with the rest of the human survivors. He’d kept his brain focused on several fronts; he never put all his eggs in one basket. He instructed Pepper to get the underground ready. Pepper, bless her obsessive compulsively organized heart, readied everything, thought of things he would never have considered. 

Personally, Tony knows of a dozen similar settlements across the world. Most are official and house the governments of the forgotten nations of the world. Stark Industries and, believe it or not, Disney World are two of the few public/not governmentally run posts of human survival. He knows for certain that only his settlement has anything close to a plan for more than just survival. The supposed governments are bickering and falling apart. The mouse’s house is surviving but not in the business of full stage frontal attacks on alien invaders. It falls on his shoulders and he supposes he shouldn’t complain. He’s Iron Man or, at least, insisted on it for years.

He really doesn’t have much of a choice. Too many good people are gone; too many gave their lives so that the few could survive. He doesn’t intend to just survive, he intends to live.

Walking down the long corridor, he flips open his phone – it isn’t like the phones of yesterday. He’s designed these very differently. Since most satellites have been either taken over by the aliens, destroyed, or just fallen out of repair, this phone can work on several different modes. When he wants to interact with someone on base, it simply uses the short wave radio they have set up throughout the corridors. When he wants to call up the government creeps or the good guys over at Disney or in Siberia (yes another little conclave of humans survived there) he has to hop, skip, and jump over still operating satellites so that the aliens can’t detect him. It’s challenging, but then again JARVIS needs something to do. Unfortunately, they don’t have enough spare high-tech parts for a lot of them to have cell phones. The number they have is pitiful and most of those have been spread out to different human bases. Just the logistics of getting a phone to Asia was nightmare enough. That means Steve doesn’t have a phone - that means his husband has been out of touch for over a month. 

It hurts just to think of Steve so far away, not knowing if he’s even alive. Natasha assures him that there’s no word on the alien front that Steve has been taken or killed. She should know since it’s her official job to work with the Ornari. He likes to call them the Orifices, because he thinks of them as assholes of the highest level. 

He notes the list of text messages from various regions. Most are just routine checks and Pepper will take care of them. Others are requesting information or consultation. He answers the easy ones with a fast text back and plans to meet with the others. He tucks the phone back in his pocket when he reaches the ladder up to the ground level. 

Climbing, he rotates the latch and then allows the automatic computer screening system to scan his iris, it opens without a problem and he pokes his head out. It’s night time and there aren’t any lights. This is intentional, no need to draw attention to themselves. He waits and then scurries along the back lot of the empty Stark Industries factory complex. It has been quite a while since it was anything but a bombed out shell of a building. He finds his way through the cracked door and whistles. 

From the rafters, Barton jumps down and lifts a brow at him. “You called?”

“No sign?”

“I’d’ve told you if I saw him, you know that Stark.” Barton slings the bow over his shoulder. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been ages. We expected him back by now,” Tony says. He shakes the feeling of discontentment away and turns back to the more immediate issues. “Perimeter clear?”

“Yep, not a soul out there, we’re good.” Barton presses his lips together, and then adds, “Widow should call tonight.”

“She should,” Tony agrees. He doesn’t like what he’s done to Barton and Natasha, but some things are necessary in war. Setting up Natasha as the official government liaison to the aliens was hard enough. She has been key to getting information shuffled to him from the aliens. Her access to alien technology, while not all encompassing, has been valuable. The aliens have come to trust her enough, that she’s embedded with them now, which is a testament to her skills.

“You’ll get some information from her, maybe,” Barton offers and Tony can tell, at the same time, he’s digging for information on her. He hasn’t seen her in ages. She’s doing what she does best; she’s working for them.

“We’ll see,” Tony says but doesn’t commit.

“Can you, can I talk to her next time?” Barton asks. His eyes don’t settle, he’s always watching, always observing both near and far. 

“You know our time is short, she doesn’t have time for love chats,” Tony replies.

“Christ, Stark, give a little, can’t you?” Barton turns around but then spins on his heel to glower at him. “You got Steve, right here, most of the time. She’s out there and I don’t even get a fucking message from her once in a while. Jesus.”

Tony puts his hands up and wards him off. “I’ll see if I can patch you through. Most of the time, she dictates how much time she’ll give us. Neither of us want to put her in danger.”

“Yes, right.” Barton deflates a degree and nods. “I know. I know.” He looks up to his nest high in the rafters where he can see out of the large open windows to the hills around the burnt-out factory. “Thanks, I - I gotta go.” He points upward and Tony nods.

It isn’t fair and it isn’t right, but it is war and that’s how things are handled. He sighs and picks his way through the rubble to the hatch again. It scans his iris and pops open. Once he’s through, he latches it and slides down the ladder. 

He should make his way back to the lab. He still has to make refinements to their plan and, if Steve walks through the door tonight, he won’t be ready. This spurs him on and he jogs past the mess where there are several groups of civilians eating and playing – of all things – board games. It is something Steve instituted. One thing that had been easily left behind when stores had been pillaged had been board games. Steve gathered up as many as he could in the early days of the settlement and brought them back. Game night has become a regular occurrence. It aches a little in his chest to think of Steve long gone and the games continuing on.

“He isn’t gone, he’s still out there,” Tony whispers to himself and enters the level where his lab is located. It is secured with several redundant locks and measures which make it nearly impossible for anyone to enter the laboratory without his express permission. The list of people allowed in the lab is controlled by Tony and Pepper. Both of them have to agree to allow someone access.

He throws himself onto the couch and waits as JARVIS details the latest information on alien movements and incursions. “Sir, there is a call coming through from Widow.”

“Put it on,” Tony says.

Her figure appears before him in bluish hologram. 

“Widow?”

“The Ornari are on the trail of a suspected Seed. The scuttle butt is that the Seed has unusual biology and may be one of the original Avenger team members.”

“Steve?”

“Yes,” Natasha nods and looks to the side. “Also, I received information today from outposts in Russia. It looks like we have another cell there trying to take them down. You remember I told you about the Winter Soldier?”

“Yeah, creepy mythology, gets put in stasis, wakes up, does his assassin thing, and then goes back to sleep,” Tony says as he shivers. 

“Well, someone there finally woke him up,” Natasha says. “He’s like a whirling dervish out there. He’s disassociating the Ornari from the primordial pools and effectively killing them left and right and gathering info.”

“That’ll be a good distraction for us, we can use that,” Tony says and sits up. “Should we contact him?”

“Hmm, not sure, don’t know who’s holding his leash. The Ornari don’t know either. He’s dangerous, Tony. I know him from the Red Room.”

He nods; he doesn’t need to get into details to understand what she means by that. “But Steve?”

“They’re on his trail but they haven’t sighted him yet. They blew up a small town in Kansas because they had some leads he was there.”

Leads only means that people, their fellow human beings gave information to rat Steve out. This has been a problem since the get go. Steve, as the perfect Seed, has been the out every despicable person and government has been looking for. It has taken all of Tony’s know how not to allow Steve to surrender himself. He won’t let that happen without a plan in place to save them all. Now that he has the plan, he has to let it happen. It hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

“You think he found him?”

“No telling,” Natasha says. “Listen, I have to-.”

“Two minutes, I’m patching you through to bird boy.”

“I don’t--”

“Just blink your eyes at him and smile,” Tony says. “It will make him feel better.”

She smiles and then he cuts her off as he transfers her to Hawkeye. JARVIS actually does it. Tony just sits there in the empty space where Natasha had been and starts mapping out how long it will take Steve to get home. He has to be coming home now. It’s been over a month. If he hasn’t found Logan by now, he’ll never find him. 

If he has found Logan – Tony stops thinking, but he can’t, not really. He always thinks, always plans, always puts the dots together to create the final picture. If Steve finds Logan, convinces him to come back, they will have the final clue to their puzzle and be able to do this thing. This horrible wonderful thing to save the world – but he doesn’t want to do it.

Not really.

Saving the world means losing everything he has now. If all the pieces fall into place, if everything goes as planned, Tony will lose Steve.

He wonders if he’s ready to do that – just to save the world.

And he knows he’s not.

Steve stares over the small flames of their fire to watch Logan. He has the same old cigar in his fingers again, rolling it around like he’s a dog worrying a stick. It must be a new habit Logan picked up, Steve doesn’t remember it from before, he doesn’t recall watching him do anything repetitive or obsessive. One thing he’s always admired about Logan has been how he’s kept his cool. 

He’s known Logan for since before – before the ice. They’d met up during the war, for a brief time. It’s hard not to notice someone walking around with claws that goes berserk and never really gets injured. Logan stayed low under the radar, but not low enough for the SSR. He knows that Logan caught the attention of many in the military; he’s learned that since he woke up. Back in the day, the SSR just kept tabs on him and didn’t interfere. Mainly, they ignored him because they had a lunatic with a red skull running around Europe threatening to end the world. Some guy with amazing healing abilities and claws took a back seat to Schmidt and Hitler.

When Steve woke up, when he sifted through all the materials SHIELD gave him to read, he found himself looking for any information on Logan. It hadn’t been an attraction, not then, only a hope to reach out to someone who might understand what it was like to be displaced, out of place, lost. The information he’d found at SHIELD dug out his core. Logan couldn’t remember, his memories had disappeared sometime in the seventies. The file had no information as to why.

He’d wanted to find out, to search out the reasons, but then they had their very own alien invasion of the Loki persuasion to deal with. After, he’d hopped onto his bike and drove away. He left New York and his caged life with SHIELD behind looking for some ground in this strange brave new world he found himself in. Somewhere along his travels, he found himself in a motel staring at his little smartphone. 

His memory never failed him, not since the serum. He recalled the last known address for Logan with the phone number. He didn’t call; instead he decided to just go there. He ended up in rural Canada. Finding Logan became his single purpose for no other reason than he needed a purpose. What he found had been half a man really, a bear living in the woods. He cleaned him up, rented a room above a grocery store in the small town, and sobered him up. 

“Who the hell are you?” Logan had said once he’d been conscious for more than five minutes.

“Steve,” he’d answered and offered Logan a mug of coffee. 

“Why the hell am I here?” Logan looked around and snarled at the small studio apartment. Most of the furniture and décor looked like it washed up from years ago, it actually made Steve feel a little less lost. The fabric of the couch was threadbare and the curtains looked musty, like no one had washed them in half a century.

“Because you needed a bath,” Steve said. “And a decent meal.” He offered Logan a plate of roast chicken, potatoes, and green beans. “Eat.”

“What if I’m a vegetarian?”

“You’re not,” Steve said and pulled a chair up from the tiny table near the galley kitchen. He sat across from Logan who lay out on the couch. “Eat.”

Logan eyed him, looked down at his fists as if he was considering an escape, but then decided the plate of food was worth a delay in vivisecting his rescuer. He chowed down as Steve had watched.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I already told you, I’m Steve Rogers. We know one another from the war,” Steve said.

“Right, sure, bub. I didn’t fight in Iraq or Afghanistan,” Logan had said as he chewed. He stabbed another potato with his fork. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

“I doubt that, and I’m not talking about those wars,” Steve said.

“Sure, which ones then? The mutant ones, because I’m done with that.” Logan scooped up some more of the chicken.

“World War Two,” Steve had said and waited for Logan’s reaction.

Logan stopped, stilled, and stared at Steve. He saw a brief flash race through Logan’s expression, though it might have been hidden by the thick beard and long hair. “Captain Fucking America.”

“One and the same,” Steve said. “Though I’m not particular to that middle name.”

“Do I want to know how?”

Steve shook his head. “Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Logan had said. “If you’re looking for someone who remembers, I don’t. Just brief flashes now and again. Nothing substantial.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said.

He grunted his disapproval at Steve. “So why?”

“I kind of understand how it feels to be totally dissociated from your surroundings. We got that in common at least. Plus,” Steve had said. “I thought, hoped, maybe you might remember a little about back then.”

Logan hadn’t replied, just looked at Steve with a certain kind of pity. Steve had almost left him, right then and there. He was tired of all of the pity and the looks of sorrow when people glanced his way – even Coulson had been like that to some extent. Logan had shrugged then, and the pity faded.

“Maybe you could help me, too, kid.”

Steve’s not sure if they ever helped one another, but they stayed together for some time. They ended up traveling together, Logan showed Steve the world, the modern one, the only one he remembered, and Steve sparked some of the memories Logan longed to recall. It worked, until it didn’t.

Now, Steve douses the flames with the rest of his coffee, wipes out the tin cup and stows it in his pack. He has two bed rolls with him and he tosses one to Logan as he puts away the rest of their meager meal of beans and rice. There really isn’t much left, but he learned early in his life that you never waste food. This practice has come to bear in recent days. 

Logan picks up the roll of thin blankets and says, “What, not even for old time’s sake?”

Steve bows his head and refuses to look up at the man. 

A slight pang grips his heart when he thinks of Fury. “Just go to sleep, Logan, it’ll be a long ride tomorrow.” He adjusts his roll over some leaves and pine needles. He checks the ground for rocks and there aren’t any. “I’ll take first watch.”

Logan shrugs his shoulders, pockets the worn cigar, and throws the blankets across the ground without a care. He lies down and mutters something under his breath. Steve ignores him.

He searches the area, listening to the babble of the river close by and the rustle of the animals occupying the woods. There are still places on this Earth the aliens haven’t desecrated. He bends his knees and wraps his arms around his legs in a loose hug. His hands grasped together, he feels the circle around his third finger on his left hand. He can barely make out the red and gold of the band on his ring finger under the moonlight, but it still brings a smile to his lips. 

Once this is over, once they’ve won back the world, it will all be gone like smoke in the wind. He thinks of the first time Tony brought the idea to him. They were excited and thrilled and then it struck them that everything they’d worked for together as a couple would be destroyed. They had to sacrifice their own happiness for this world, this Earth. He thinks of Tony’s hands on him, on the graze of his callused fingers across his bare chest, playing with his nipples, touching him in intimate places. He bows his head and wants to mourn, but he’s never been that kind of guy. He’s always done the right thing, the perfect thing to be a good man. He’s committed to this; he’ll walk right up to the aliens and give them what they want. Himself.

If it doesn’t work, if their plan is for naught, he’ll power their God Machine for the rest of his life – for more. No one really knows. With his unique healing abilities, the God Machine cannot drain him like it can other sentient life forms. It can shred him, tear him apart according to what Tony’s learned, but it will not kill him. It will only torture him. 

He bites the inside of his cheek to stop from feeling the fear when Logan says, “Why you doing this? What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing, everything,” Steve says and twists the band around his finger. 

“What’s the plan?” Logan says and Steve can see the glint of his eyes as the moonlight strikes him.

“Tony, you, and I will go to the Ornari. I’ll be the prisoner that Tony is handing over to them.” Steve doesn’t see the harm in telling him some of the story. “It will be his way into the Ornari command center.”

“You mean the God Machine,” Logan says. “What makes you think they’ll let him get within a hundred miles of it?”

“They will,” Steve says and lifts a shoulder. “Once we’re there, they will.”

“Because?”

“Because someone who goes peacefully into the God Machine doesn’t get rejected by it,” Steve replies.

“How do you know that?”

“Our mole told us and the info we hacked.”  
“I’ll surrender to them with the stipulation that Tony and you have to accompany me and watch them hook me up. If I do that, the God Machine will accept me, and they’ll have their whole civilization powered for the rest of my life.”

“Or however long they get you to live, which could be fifteen minutes or fifteen hundred years.”

Steve muffles his comment. He wants to yell and scream and tell Logan he doesn’t really care about the God Machine because once this is done, he’ll have lost Tony. 

When it is clear he’s not rising to the bait, Logan quirks a brow at him and says, “What’s my part in this? ‘Cause I ain’t being back-up for your part.”

“I need you to protect Tony,” Steve says and leaves it at that. “Go to sleep, Logan.”

Wolverine turns over with his face to the small wooded area. Steve just rests and looks up at the stars. Since he’s come back from his icy death, the beauty of the stars has lost all of its glamor. He laughs to himself. Yet his mind settles back on Tony, his husband, for now. He misses his touch, his kiss, his impossibly fast mind, and irritating quips. Soon, he’ll be home, and soon this will all be over.

He looks over to Logan who is snoring surprisingly loudly. At least he’ll have Logan when it’s over. He wonders if that will be enough. He wonders if once he is done and the God Machine has him, if anything will save him.

In the morning, they both get moving without many words between them. They are like a welloiled machine, each doing their part without thinking. This fact – that they know each other so well, and are so ingrained with each other’s moves like dance partners hurts deep inside of Steve, like his joints are arthritic and ache with it. Thankfully, Logan doesn’t comment, nor offer a sarcastic remark, which is something he has in common with Tony. They are both always so fast with a comeback; Steve still wishes he had that ability. 

With everything stowed away on the bike, Steve hops on and waits for Logan to add his weight. 

“I want to tell you, I’m not one hundred percent on board with this little plan of yours,” Logan says and he stays about three feet away from the bike. “Tell me, Stark has some plan to get you out of there?”

Steve looks away and then back at the Wolverine. Their eyes meet and Steve flashes back to those months before they even knew anything about the Ornari, he’s back in those strong arms, he’s back traveling with Logan across Asia, Africa, trying to forget everything and experience everything at once. Back then, Logan had been a port in a storm of the future. At first it had been a platonic friendship, the two of them exploring the world – Steve discovering the future and Logan the past. It had been inexplicable, why their relationship turned from friends, to fuck buddies as they call it these days, to finally a true love affair. After a trying day during their journey, they’d blow off some steam with one another, until one day Logan kissed him. They never kissed as fuck buddies, they were just doing each other a favor. But then Logan kissed him long and hard and he found himself kissing back. Their mutual feelings of loss and disconnection fueled their passion. He’d fallen into Logan’s arms, explored and learned with Logan. He made Logan laugh, back then. Logan laughs so rarely, but Steve had the privilege and the honor of seeing him smile, causing him to laugh. It was beautiful and bright, but it wasn’t meant to last. Even as they jockeyed against one another, vying for position, rutting to completion, he knew it would never last.

He’d wanted it to, but it fell apart. They were and always would be two very different people with Logan running from his destiny and responsibilities and Steve rushing headlong toward them without a second’s pause. Steve knew he would never live a life of a wanderer; he only left New York, and SHIELD, and the Avengers behind to seek out the future and find his place. He understood done in his bones he would always return. It would drive them apart eventually. Yet, Logan cared even when Steve left him, even when he walked out and said goodbye. When Steve looks at him now, he can still see it written plainly on his face.

“He does,” Steve says. “Tony knows what he’s doing.”

Logan studies him for a full minute, before he decides to take his seat on the bike. He rests against the seat and places his arms loosely about Steve’s waist. Logan doesn’t lean forward into Steve, for which Steve is grateful. He doesn’t need to be reminded of what once was. He doesn’t need to see what will happen.

He pushes the bike into gear and they set off. The roads are empty of any human life. Occasionally they round a corner of the highway where there are smashed cars, vans, and even semi-trucks abandoned on the road. He approaches these with caution; there can always be marauders these days. For the morning and a good part of the afternoon, they see no one and they travel at speed. Eventually, they pull over if just to stop and refresh. A small settlement just outside of Albuquerque peppers the side of the road. There are no people as they first slow down to study the town before entering. Like the town they left in Kansas, this one looks functioning, but there are no people. 

“We might be able to, at least, get something to drink,” Steve says. He can go without water but the air is hot and dry and they’ve been out in the sun for over seven hours. Logan doesn’t agree or disagree, just kind of grunts next to him. From his time with Wolverine he knows this means he’s assessing the situation and hasn’t come to his own conclusion yet about safety.

He pulls the bike over to park near a small house that’s been converted to a store of some sort. There are a number of quilts hanging with barter signs on them as well as signs around the yard. The signs offer water and food for goods or services. 

“You got something you wanna sell to these people?” Logan says as he gets off the motorcycle. “’Cause I ain’t got much but the clothes on my back.”

They walk about ten feet from the bike to the small path up to the house with Steve leading them when he hears the click of a gun being cocked. He turns around and sees several men walk out from the line of buildings near the road. Four men to be exact – two with baseball caps (red and blue), one with a long ponytail, and the last who is obviously the leader of the pack. This used to be a roadside stop, a place where people might be able to get gasoline, a drink, an overnight stay after a long day on the road. 

“Looks like all you get in this town is robbed,” Logan comments out of the side of his mouth.

Steve raises his hands and says, “We’re not looking for trouble, just something to drink, maybe food.”

“What you offering?” the man closest to them asks. He’s the leader, his flattened nose showing he doesn’t mind getting roughed up in a fight. His rifle looks like he scavenged it from an army base, since it is a modified assault weapon. 

“I have some cable, wiring, even some scrap metal,” Steve says.

The man laughs and spittle flies wide. The three other men with various incarnations of guns step toward them. The bike is near the stand with the quilts on it. His shield is with the bike. It might as well be in the burnt out cinders of New York. He gives a sidelong glance to Logan and sees the man is ready for a fight, but while Logan can easily survive a shot to the head, Steve’s not as certain about his own chances.

He puts his hands up and pushes in front of Logan. “We’re not looking for trouble, just some supplies. Been out on the road a long time.”

“Been stuck here in this hell hole a long time, we might like to have a usable vehicle,” the man says and he aims the gun right at Steve’s chest. 

Peering over his shoulder, Steve catches Logan’s nod and he has no other choice. He doesn’t like violence even though he is Captain America. He doesn’t like bullies either. He turns back to the leader, eyes the other men circling him and says, “Can I get my supplies, my bag?”  
He points to the front of the bike where his shield is notched with a leather covering over it to conceal its identity. The mud doesn’t always do a perfect job. The leader considers him for a minute, but Steve keeps his hands raised in surrender.

“Okay, then.” The man gestures for him to make it quick. He walks over to the bike, yanks the shield up, but keeps evaluating each of the men. Red baseball is large and brawny, blue is skinny, but tall. Ponytail looks like he might be the son of the leader. Steve only pulls the shield off the front of the bike and steps away from it. Wolverine is at his shoulder, ready, waiting. The shield dangles from Steve’s fingertips, ready to be tossed once he rids it of its leather cloak. 

Steve backs up a step with Wolverine by his side. The leader nods to Ponytail, hands off his gun, and goes to the bike. Before he touches it, he surveys it and smiles. 

“Nice ride, vintage.”

“Don’t know about that, everything is vintage these days, bub,” Logan says and curls his lips in a snarl. Steve grabs his wrist to stop him. He can feel the long slide of the claws inside of Logan’s hand.

Logan glances at him and Steve nods, looking at the bike and not at Logan. The leader scratches at his mess of thick tangles, places his hat back on his head, and says, “Boys, it looks like we got ourselves a ride. You want to take the visitors out for a nice little tour of the town?”

Red baseball cap steps up to Logan.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“You gonna stop us?”

“Logan, let’s just go,” Steve says and squeezes his wrist a little tighter. 

“Get me the keys,” the leader says and spits in the dirt. It cakes the dry soil. 

One of the men pushes at Steve and he lets them believe they’re roughing him up. Logan flares his nostrils and growls under his breath as they jostle Steve about, shoving him up against the outer wall of the building. An elbow to his back and Steve grunts but doesn’t resist. It isn’t necessary, once they have the keys, they’ll have the bike, and the bike will do the rest. 

“I’ll give you the keys,” Steve says.

“Doesn’t look like your boyfriend wants to play fair,” says Red Baseball twisting his elbow into the small of Steve’s back. He bites back his reply as fingers poke into his front pocket and pull out the keys. He tosses them to the leader.

“Here you go, Jet.” 

Jet catches them one handed and points at Wolverine. “Get the dog outta here, he looks a little rabid.”

For a split second, Steve thinks they know Logan’s mutant status, but then it is clear they just think of him as some kind of guard dog for Steve. “Separate them, and then we can teach ‘em both a lesson.”

Red Baseball and Ponytail surround Logan. Steve sees Logan twitch and flex his fingers. If the leader doesn’t get on the bike soon, Steve isn’t going to be able to control Logan and this is going to become a blood fest very quickly. It is something Steve wants to avoid. He doesn’t like killing, especially now when the human population has been so decimated,– regardless of how ignorant they are.

Finally, Jet moves to the bike. He studies it as he points carelessly at Logan. “Take him out back and truss him up. I don’t want him giving us any trouble.”

“What about the other one?” Blue Baseball points to Steve. He reminds Steve of a wild rabbit, with frightened eyes and a thin face. 

“Well, he was nice and didn’t go all shit ass when we took his keys.”

“Listen, let us leave,” Steve says. They cannot find out who he is. If they find out, the bounty on his head makes him a prime target for unsavory deals with the aliens.

“Ha, where you gonna go? There ain’t nowhere to go out in the middle of nothing, with no way to get anywhere. You’re stuck here, just like the rest of us. And we’ll see to it, you earn your way. You and this freak dog.”

“Now, that’s enough,” Logan hisses. 

“Oh, you gonna stop us?” Jet mocks. “Who’s got the guns?”

“Just take the bike, take everything,” Steve says. 

“Right, sure,” Jet laughs and walks over to the bike again. “Time for a little ride. Maybe I’ll have you tied up and use you as a ramp? Maybe, I’ll drive over your god damned skulls. Does that soon nice, does that sound fair?”

“Sounds like you’re a bit of a sadist,” Logan replies.

“Sounds like you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.” 

Jet tosses the keys in the air once, catches them, and slings a leg over the seat of the bike. Steve turns away, because he’s seen this before. He knows what’s about to happen and it isn’t pretty. Jet slides the keys into the ignition, the bike purrs to life under him, a five note digital sound issues forth, and then the bike sets off an alarm.

_“Warning, you have five seconds to remove yourself from the vicinity of this motorcycle. If you do not, you will be severely injured.”_

“What the fuck?” One of the men behind Steve states and punches a fist into the small of Steve’s back, near his kidney. 

“Four, three, two, one,” the bike counts off.

The bike screeches a siren and then discharges an arc of electricity, shivering through the rider. He freezes with a hideous bow of his back. He screams and the three men surrounding them jump into action. Blue Baseball swings at Steve, but he easily blocks it and comes in for a low cut to the gut. Blue Baseball doubles over and Steve knees upward and knocks him in the jaw, toppling him to the dusty ground. 

Logan dispatches the other two without a problem. Steve hears their howls as Logan guts them. He grimaces at the bloody claws and the men eviscerated on the ground. He swallows back the bile as Logan pushes Jet off from the bike to get on. Jet’s body still shudders through the shocks and discharge. The bike whistles out another warning, but he ignores it, revs up the bike, and as the bolts race through Logan’s body, says, “Get the fuck on the bike.”

Grabbing his satchel with the shield, Steve leaps toward him, springing onto the bike, behind him. He can smell the ozone from the electricity in the air. Logan kicks at the writhing man and Steve hits the safety switch on the bike that disengages the defense mechanism. As Logan steers the bike through the mass of blood and bodies, he snags a quilt and tosses it back at Steve.

“Consider it a wedding present,” Logan says and the bike eats the dirt, kicking up stones and dust as they ride out of town.

Riding for several more hours brings them to the middle of nowhere Arizona. Steve doesn’t bother to switch out to drive the bike. He needs the rest; he’s been on the road for over a month, and exhaustion even hits him. He hasn’t eaten or drunk properly for the majority of the time; he thinks that Bruce won’t be too happy with him. But then he thinks of Bruce and Tony, and his smile fades. Bruce didn’t deserve what they had to do to him, but they had no other choice. The aliens wanted Bruce. The idea of that much rage uncontained scared the Ornari. 

The first line of attack the Avengers tried had been centered on Bruce. Bruce had agreed to the line of attack, the best plan. They sent Bruce, allowed the Ornari to capture him and hook him up. The consequences had been disastrous. The other guy appeared as planned, but the God Machine rejected him. It flung him to the deepest reaches of space as far as Tony could discern from his hacking into their systems. 

If this new plan works, it won’t matter. Everything will be set straight again, everything will be right. He realizes as he’s thinking that he’s placed his head on Wolverine’s shoulder and has his arms slung easily around his waist. If everything goes as planned, the difference between this moment and the moment of victory will be negligible. It terrifies him.

By the time the sun sets, they are nearing a riverbed that’s almost dry. It looks pitiful in the glowing light of the sun. Logan stops the bike and parks it, while Steve jumps off and stretches. He finds his way to the side of the road, and unzips to relieve himself. Logan stands next to him as they piss.

“Just like old times, huh?” Logan says with a wink as he finishes off. He stuffs himself back in place and licks his lips. “We don’t have to go back, you know.”

Steve rights himself and zips up. “Yes, we do.”

“Hooking you up to the God Machine is risky business.” Logan searches his face and in the glint of the setting sun, Steve recognizes not pity but pained concern. “I don’t like this plan. Whatever it is Stark thinks he’s doing, he’s not going to win. Hell, if they could take down Magneto, they can take down Tony Stark.”

Steve walks back to the bike. He just wants to get home. He just wants to lie in his husband’s arms again. “You don’t know Tony the way I do.”

“I’ve been around the block, kid.”

“Most of which you don’t remember,” Steve says as he opens up the side panels of the bike and digs out their bedrolls. “How about we don’t talk about this and we wait until we get to the base?”

Logan grabs his hands, stills them, and looks at Steve. They are eye to eye. “We could go to the south Pacific, there’s islands there the aliens ain’t touched. Could be like ol’ times.”

It is enticing and he wants to say yes, a part of him, the part that escaped from all responsibilities, from the world with Logan before would like to just forget. He recalls the memories with a certain melancholy because they still represent a time in his life when he released all his cares and worries and lived for the moment, and lived selfishly. In the end, living with Logan and loving the road with Logan wasn’t him. The responsibilities of being who he was always destine to be ate at him and their relationship. Both of them know that, he can’t. And he loves another, now.

“We could,” Steve says. “But I won’t.” He doesn’t tear his hands away. Logan always loved to touch his hands, loved to feel them because whatever hardship he encountered, his hands always stayed smooth, uncallused, and perfect. 

Logan cups one hand in his own and draws circles on the palm of it with his index finger. “Come away with me with me, Steve. You weren’t meant to fight war after war. You get a life, too.”

“I have a life.”

“With a maniac who wants to give you up to the Ornari.”

He does jerk his hand away now. “Tony isn’t a maniac. And if you want to know, I’m the one who came up with the plan. He just figured out the tech. He’s as against it as you are.”

“And he’s still going through with it? It just means he ain’t as sure about his tech as you are,” Logan says.

Steve moves off, gathering branches and what kindling he can find to make a fire. The offerings are meager. There won’t be much to heat the coffee with in the morning. “I’m sure of his tech.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s a god damned genius,” Logan replies. He trails after Steve, picking up a few odd branches along the way. “He’ll get us all out of this mess, when another fucking genius got us into it.”

Steve looks over his shoulder at Logan and says, “Not our Reed.”

“Like that matters,” Logan says.

“It does, Logan. You don’t like to see things with the whole picture. You only look at things one way,” Steve says as he dumps the pile of sticks and branches onto the dusty ground.

“Like I said, I’ve been around the block.”

“Most of which you admit to not remembering,” Steve replies, again. He sits on his haunches and picks up a few rocks to make a circle for the fire. “So, don’t use that excuse.”

Logan kneels next to him and clasps both of his hands in his. “Then can I use this one, I never stopped, kid. I never stopped wanting you. I never stopped loving you. Today, when that creep grabbed you, it was like my god damned heart dropped out of my chest.”

“Logan.”

“Please, don’t do this.”

“I have to,” Steve stops and amends. “We have to.”

Logan leans in, and when Steve doesn’t immediately pull back, he interprets it as an invitation. He releases one of Steve’s hands, slips his hand behind Steve’s head and holds it there. He presses forward and kisses. At first, it is closed mouth and seeking, and Steve falls into it, remembering this touch, this power beneath the flesh. It is the lure of the open road, the casting off of all responsibilities that sings to him like a siren from the sea. He opens his mouth and closes his eyes as he recalls the tumble and crash of their love affair, as the sparks of heat, and smell of sweat, and brush of stubble brings all the images and feelings slamming into him, curving into him. It ignites in the pit of his belly and he groans as he hardens. He’s always loved Logan, he thinks he always will. With his free hand, he grips Logan’s shoulder and tightens his hold. Logan plunges his tongue in, tasting and gliding.

He breaks away, tipping his head forward and says, “No, you’ll do this because it’s the right thing. You know it’s the right thing to save the world from them.”

Logan jolts away from him as if he’s just given him a shock from his bike. “Christ, what the fuck has Stark been feeding you?”

Steve collapses back onto his ass and smiles. He still likes that underneath all Wolverine’s bravado is a relatively good man. “You know it isn’t Tony, you know who I am, Logan. I’m committed to the cause, I’m committed to Tony. I believe in him.”

“You’ve always been too busy with your superhero complex,” Logan says. 

Steve shakes his head and chuckles. “For all your reputation, Logan, you really are a diehard romantic.”

“When it comes to you, kid, I always will be,” Logan says and walks a few paces away. He doesn’t look back when he says. “I’ll come with you, but only because it’s you. I’m not doing this for Stark. If he ends up getting you killed-.” He turns around and levels his gaze at Steve. “I will kill him.”

“He’s not getting me killed,” Steve says. “You’ll see, it will be worth it to you, Logan. I swear.” It hurts all the more to say it because Steve knows, knows deep in his bones that he will lose part of himself, part of his soul, if their plan works. He won’t reveal the plan now, even though at the center of the plan Logan gets everything he desires. He won’t do it because he wants to have Tony next to him to show Logan, to demonstrate just how important Tony is to him.

His fingers find the band on his finger and it feels like blood more than an alloy.

  
It’s early in the day when the alarm bells scream and the whole base goes on lockdown. Tony drops his coffee mug and races to the laboratory door, calling to JARVIS for an explanation. The warning lights in the corridor are spinning and sirens are screeching. There’s a cascade of motion, civilians toward the center, soldiers toward the perimeter. Weaving through the hallway, Tony pushes past children and warriors alike. Most people flatten up against the walls when they see him coming. Everyone here knows who Tony Stark is. Everyone who makes it here eventually finds out that Tony Stark isn’t a coward or a traitor. Most on the outside don’t understand that, most on the outside think that Tony’s aiding and abetting. They come here seeking refuge , finding it through the underground network Pepper and Happy have set up. They come here looking for help from Pepper, what they find is that the world doesn’t know Tony Stark at all.

Tony slings on his headset and yells, “Barton give me news.”

“Sir, Hawkeye is currently engaged in fighting.”

“Hawk, tell me the damned news?”

The howling sirens continue as he races his way through the underground, as he climbs ladders, and shoves aside soldiers to get to the command center. He hustles toward the main thoroughfare of the underground city and hits the escalator belt. He takes it at speed and doesn’t stop running. It helps him cover the ground as JARVIS assesses the situation for him.

“Sir, it seems as if a rider is approaching the perimeter followed by raiders.”

“Are the raiders with Ornari? JARVIS, are the raiders with Ornari?”

“It is too early to tell, sir.”

Tony rounds the corner and gets to the entrance to the command center. He presses his whole hand against the locking mechanism, pushes his face against the scanner for iris identification, and speaks his name for voice recognition. It unlocks and he’s permitted entrance. Rhodey is there and sweating bullets.

“Give me good news, is the rider Steve?”

“No ID yet, but coming in very hot, we’ve got more than forty raiders on the rider’s tail.” 

“Sir,” JARVIS says into his earpiece.

“Yes?”

“The make of the motorcycle fits the 1942 model that Captain Rogers rides,” JARVIS informs him.

“It’s Steve,” Tony says. He watches the display on the four large screens plastered to the walls. From what he can discern they are still about a half mile out. “Bring the outer range cameras on line. We need to see more than just moving dots on the screen.”

“Already booted up, but we’re having some power issues and it keeps logging off on us,” Rhodey says. He’s jumpy, jittery. Tony knows the feeling; both of them would rather be in the armor than standing in the command center observing the action. 

Walking over to the console, Tony gestures for the young kid in the chair to move off and he does. He accesses the code and flicks through it, scanning multiple lines at a time. He finds the error and corrects it and then reboots the entire system. They will be without visuals for approximately sixty seconds. 

“JARVIS, give me your eye on the action?” Tony presses his fingernails into the heels of his hands. It has to be Steve, but was he successful – is the Wolverine with him? 

“The reboot has also caused by external visuals to be handicapped as well. I am attempting to re-route.” 

“Don’t bother, it’ll take longer than necessary,” Tony says and hits the switch on the communications link.

Rhodey comes up to him and asks, “What the hell did you do to my visuals?”

“It’s coming up, give it a minute.” Tony waves him off and says into his mouthpiece. “Hawk, anything?”

“Two riders on one bike, but coming in hot.”

“Shit, he did it,” Tony says.

“Did what?” Rhodey asks.

“The Wolverine, Steve has him.” He turns back to his earpiece and says, “We need them in safely at all costs. Bring them around the south entrance. We cannot have them come in the north or east. That will alert everyone and his brother and their dog that we’re down here.”

“Already on it,” Hawkeye says. “We have a full contingent forcing them toward the southern entrance. We’re flanking them to the east and that should push them toward the south.” 

“Good, good,” Tony says as the display starts to materialize on the screens. Rhodey frowns and taps his headset to field questions and throw orders out at his troops. Long ago, Tony learned it was easier to let the former Colonel have the position of top brass of their soldiers. Even Steve didn’t want it. Tony worked better at a higher level, looking at the forest for the trees while Rhodey excelled at the finer details of combat. 

“See if you can get me a look at the riders’ faces,” Tony says to the technician he’d bumped out of the way to fix the system error.

“Sir, I have confirmed it is Captain Rogers and the Wolverine.” 

Turning to his friend, Tony says, “We have confirmation, Rogers and Logan are coming in.”

“Bring them in without a scratch, crew,” Rhodey orders over the channel.

That is going to be a hard sell because the swarm of raiders following them fans out behind the motorcycle, obviously understanding that the troops are attempting to herd them in one direction. Rhodey screams out commands, yelling at his soldiers to close ranks, get the fuck closer to the lines, tighten up, too many are slipping through and forcing Steve to ride the cycle off course.

Steve knows not to come to the front door. He’ll abandon ship and turn and face the crowd of raiders before he surrenders their position. Tony swears under his breath, not only does he not want to lose this chance to defeat the aliens, but the thought of Steve facing down the lunatic remnants of the human race enrages him. Across the screen blasts of gunfire pepper the roadway as Steve maneuvers the bike toward a trio of assailants. Both riders duck as they plow through the raiders on their makeshift vehicles. 

Tony hisses and flinches as the bike veers wildly in front of what looks like an SUV slash station wagon. It brakes just on time but spins out as the bike steers directly for the small compact car. One of the passengers of the car leans out and points what looks like a sawed off shotgun at Steve. At the last second, the other rider on the bike reaches over and stabs something into the grill of the car and hits the radiator. The bike whips around and speeds toward the next onslaught of raiders. 

“Hawk, where the hell is your flock?” Tony yells into the communication link. 

“Coming up on the right,” Hawk says and from the crumbled building a stream of arrows flies. Because of the training Hawkeye insists on, nearly every arrow hits its mark and causes several of the vehicles to swerve out of control as the drivers are struck or their gas tanks rupture. Flames burst over several of the cars and Rhodey curses the loss of human lives.

“If they’d stop raiding us and doing the Ornari’s job then I’d have more sympathy for them,” Tony growls. 

“Bring them home,” Rhodey says into his speaker and Tony knows that means bring to bear the full force of their defenses. Tony glances at him and Rhodey gives him a firm but sad smile. This isn’t what any of them signed up for. None of them signed up for any of this.

With that order, the main guns come online. Hawk’s troops have been able to flank the attackers and force them toward the southern entrance. This will give the main artillery a chance to clear them out and free Steve and his passenger to enter the underground sanctuary. A few of the raiders break ranks and scatter along the side of the major movement as if they are planning on doubling back and checking out the remains of Stark Industries.

“Hawk, you got some stragglers,” Tony reports.

“Have to leave them or come up with another plan, we can’t hold them with what little we have,” Hawk says and the screens white out for a second as an explosion rocks the camera feed. When the feed comes back online they see another flurry of arrows fly. The arrows hitting their marks are punctured by the blasts of repulsors that Tony rigged into the outer ruins of the Stark Industry main building. He controls them remotely and targets the vehicles closest to the bike. 

He ignores the outliers, but says to JARVIS, “Keep an eye on the stragglers. I want them pinned down and taken alive.”

“As you say, sir.”

Rhodey gives him a sidelong glance as he directs the next movements of the ground troops to meet the riders. “Open up the south gate, get them in and close off.”

The camera feed shows Steve hunched low on the bike as his passenger holds on. The bursts of flames from the repulsors detonate several of the pursuing vehicles or slam into the infrastructure of the building, causing the already damaged beams and foundation to groan in response. Just as they make the entrance to the south gate, one of the last raiders still in pursuit fires off a blast from what looks like a fucking grenade launcher and it erupts in a shower of flames and sparks. Although it doesn’t directly hit the motorcycle, it smashes into a damaged support beam which crashes to the ground in front of the bike. Even as he tries to compensate, Steve cannot make the sharp angle to avoid the impending collision. The bike skids and its forward momentum, coupled with its center of gravity flings the bike on its side tossing both riders and pitching them along the concrete. 

Tony winces as he watches Steve’s body tumble across the ground, smacking up hard against a column and then lying, unmoving. The other rider suffers a similar fate, but after only a few seconds is back on his feet. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tony murmurs as he watches the Wolverine extend his claws and go after the raiders who have entered the south entrance. He demonstrates no mercy and Tony grimaces but hears Rhodey telling his men to stand down. For good measure, Tony says, “Do not let any raider get away who’s seen Wolverine. Repeat, no one who’s seen Wolverine should leave the premises.”

While everyone on base does not know the plan, most people understand if Tony Stark or Captain Rogers commands something, it is gospel and should be listened to without question. Rhodey stares at him with a look of confusion but he repeats Tony’s order nonetheless. 

He turns back to the screen to find out what Wolverine plans to do, but his eyes are riveted to Steve – who is not moving, who is laying in a heap where he fell from the bike. “Damn it to hell and back.” Tony rushes out of the room, ignoring Rhodey’s calls to stay out of it. No one outside is supposed to see him either. According to all the information they planted, Tony Stark is on the run, away from most of the human race and giving aid to the enemy. This is the only way to keep people away from the possibility of looking for Tony, and possibly finding the hidden base of operations. 

“JARVIS, heads up on Steve, please?”

“I am detecting a pulse, sir.”

“Weak, strong, give me something here.” Tony races down the corridor and through the double doors to the main garages and the south entrance. 

“It is strong, sir, but I am not detecting any actions or motions to indicate consciousness.”

“What do we have for the outliers?”

“They are cornered in a dead-end tunnel and a contingency dispatched by Hawkeye is currently on their way to the location,” JARVIS reports. 

Tony runs into the demolished garages of his former company and weaves his way through the fallen pillars, cracked and broken walls to get to the scene of the action. He hears a full throated howl as he approaches and only hesitates a second as he realizes it is Wolverine in some kind of berzerker frenzy. Ignoring it, he scans the area for Steve. He gasps when he sees the blood smeared across his blonde head. 

“I fucking told him to wear a helmet,” Tony mutters and sprints toward his fallen love. He only looks up once to see Wolverine finishing off the last of the intruders and then he focuses on Steve. “Rhodey, we need medics down here, asap.”

“Copy that, we have a few wounded on the outside. Looking to get Hawkeye to follow through.”

“Got it,” Hawkeye replies through the link. “Just as soon as we mop up the dirt in the forward gate.”

“Don’t let anyone out,” Rhodey orders and then adds, “We have a medic on his way to you, Tony.”

Tony doesn’t respond, just leans down and kneels by Steve’s side. A splotch of blood covers his head and marks the side of his face. Where his jacket wasn’t zipped his shirt has been ravaged and the concrete ate his skin across his chest so he looks like he’s been smeared with raw ground beef. 

Reaching up to the clean side of his face, Tony says, “Steve? Come on, Cap, what’d I tell you about the helmet?”

A groan answers him and Steve opens his eyes. They roll in his head as he fights for consciousness. 

“Whoa, there Captain,” Tony says as he cradles his head. “Come on, stay with me.”

Steve’s eyelids flutter as he attempts to focus on Tony. His gaze isn’t all there; even Tony can tell it is bleary, hazy. He licks his lips and then says, “Always stay with you.”

“Shit, Steve,” Tony says and bends over him, not caring that he’s getting stains of blood on his jacket. “Stay awake, medics are almost here.”

“Get your boy to wear a helmet and this won’t happen.”

Peering over his shoulder at Wolverine, Tony says, “I didn’t see you wearing one?”

Logan scrapes at the blood caked on his scalp and shrugs. “You get used to it.” 

Tony notices the slight drips of blood from his hands where his claws retracted. That has to hurt, Tony thinks but turns back to Steve who’s shifting in his grasp as if he’s going to attempt to sit up. Tony presses gently on Steve’s shoulder to keep him from moving. “Stay.”

“’m okay,” Steve says but a moan slips out and he collapses back to the ground. 

Tony looks up just in time to see the medics clear the room and rush to their side. He steps away but hangs close because just seeing Steve injured churns his gut and he closes his eyes to steady himself. It is Wolverine who pulls him out of his daze – or rather dunks him even further into the cesspool.

“If you can’t deal with him like this how the hell are you going to give him up to those fuckers?”

Tony glares at him. He’s not sure about Logan, he never has been. He doesn’t know what drives him, what eats at him, what motivates him to continue forward. “I’m not giving him up to anyone.” Tony means it, especially the underlying threat to Logan. He’ll take on the Wolverine any day, but deep down he knows he’d lose in the end. It’s all planned that way. 

“Seems to me you don’t give a damn-.”

“Don’t-.” Tony says and itches for his suit, his armor which he hasn’t donned in months. He’d stalk away if Steve wasn’t lying on the ground looking like someone chopped up his skin and tore it away. He looks back to the medics and sees they are securing his captain to a field stretcher. He walks over to the stretcher and grasps Steve’s hand. Turning to the medic, Tony asks, “How is he?”

“Minor lacerations and a head wound, sir. All of which should clear up with the serum,” the young man says and looks a little petrified to be talking to Tony about his husband. 

Tony places his free hand on the medic’s shoulder. “Take good care of him.” 

“Tony?” Steve reaches out for him and Tony offers both of his hands to Steve. 

“I’m gonna discuss a little bit of our plan with Logan, you go and get treated, okay?” He cups one hand against Steve’s face, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip. “I missed you, Capsicle.”

“Missed you too, Tin Man,” Steve says and his lids are heavy with the pain.

“Take care of him, that’s an order,” Tony directs as the two medics gather up their equipment and stow it at the foot of the stretcher. They pick up the mobile stretcher and begin their journey down to the medical bay. He lingers, watching after it, but then realizes he has more business to attend to, specifically the man at his right. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour and get you up to date.”

Logan grabs his arm and stops him. “I don’t want the grand tour, what I want is reassurance. That kid in there seems dead set on some half-assed plan you cooked up which will probably get him killed.”

Tony shrugs off his hand and says, “First, I didn’t cook it up, _we_ did. He participated. Second, you’re right it will get him killed and just about everyone else. But that’s the good news, now you want the bad news?”

“What’s that?”

“Means you gotta trust me,” Tony says with a wink and smile and then leaves. He doesn’t have to wait for long for Wolverine to follow him. 

As they make their way through the tunnels to descend lower into the underground complex that had, at one time, held some of the brightest, most vibrant technological advances of Stark Industries, the hair on Tony's neck prickles. Having Wolverine, former lover of his husband, contain his anger as he follows Tony can only be defined as a harrowing moment of complete terror. The man hates him, Tony knows this. He seethes as he considers Tony - Tony can see it in his stance, the way he holds himself, the fists of his hands. Tony's not one to let people intimidate him, shit even being held hostage in a cave for three months didn't quell his arrogance or stop him in his mission for freedom. The Wolverine he can confront, he's just not so sure about Logan, the man.

Tony decides it's better not to talk, just to usher Logan to the main living areas of the underground base. While he's certain Logan isn't a threat to the base’s safety, he refuses to allow just anyone into his laboratory or the command center. As they journey toward the center of the base, the population thickens and becomes more varied. On the outer perimeter only soldiers are permitted, while deeper in the technicians who run the place are allowed, further still is where all the families and children are centralized. The main section of the base is reinforced and completely shielded by technology Tony hadn't even used yet on his Iron Man suits when the aliens attacked. The Ornari technology might be able to figure out there's activity on the outside near the blown out Stark Industries factories, but down below, they'll detect just the normal routine haven of earth animals, insects, etc. His technology can successfully block them out - most of the time. How long he can keep it up is another question entirely.

A dozen children race by them with a few straggling adults with apologies to both Tony and Logan as they pass. Logan stops and watches them, and then studies Tony. "You're a regular Noah's ark down here."

"Don't know about Noah, but what I know is we're keeping people safe." He tries to get Logan to move, but he stays put like a pillar in the middle of the corridor.

"Your kind of people."

"Every kind of people, we have mutants here, too," Tony says. 

Logan offers him a look of distrust. "Really." The word sounds more than a curse than a question.

"We don't discriminate," Tony says and walks down the hallway toward the quarters. He's a little more than slightly insulted, but then a lot of people in his former life thought that because he resided in the category of the intellectually elite that he rated everyone below him. He wouldn't be in love with a poor kid from Brooklyn and a guy at that, if that assumption held a grain of truth to it.

"Good to hear."

Tony gives a backward glance and notices that Logan relaxes a degree. His hands are open and not fisted, he still evaluates and studies his surrounding but Tony thinks that is probably second nature to him for all the years he's been on the run. 

"You hungry?"

"Maybe. You got any beer?" Logan answers as he sniffs the air when they approach the main cafeteria. 

Food is a big commodity here in the underground complex. Luckily they cleared out a portion of the base and started growing as much as possible on their own. There's always a shortage of something, but they get by. They do trade with the many spotty above ground communities as well as the other underground bases. As far as food goes, right now, they have enough. They have tons of vegetables, lots of fruits, some root vegetables, but not a lot of meat and fish. The main person who delivers such miracles to the settlement stands to the side of the large cafe and he smiles when he catches her eye.

"Pep!"

Pepper turns around and waves him over, when she glimpses Logan her smile becomes more tentative, worried, concerned. Her hair is longer but up in a messy bun on her head. He recalls when everything about Pepper dictated order. Even today she commands most of the facility; everyone knows she's the person with the power. He's just ancillary to her. But she wears more practical clothes, a t-shirt with jeans. Pencils stick out of her bun, though he can never figure out what the hell the pencils are for since she has a StarkPad clutched in her hands.

"Tony, thank heaven, I mean we need to talk about the pad components. We're running low and the scavenging of parts isn't as fruitful anymore," she says as they approach her. He hugs her and it is warm and right and he will always love her, though both of their hearts have been given away to others. She breaks away from him and offers her hand to Logan. "Nice to meet you, Pepper Potts."

"Logan," he says and flicks his eyes between the two of them. "I think we met before at some function, you know, before the crap hit the fan."

"Right," she says. "Right, you were with Steve."

The expression on Logan's face sends ice down Tony's spine. He doesn't like to back down but he can be a slightly understanding that the guy lost in the romantic department. He forces himself to say, "Logan came in with Steve."

"Is that what all the fuss was about?" She starts to walk and Tony knows to scramble to follow her. She's always working and always pushing forward to keep the place functioning. 

"Raiders."

She looks at him when he says it. '"Again? Really, Tony, we have to make peace with them or else they are going to give away our position," Pepper says.

"I know that, isn't Happy supposed to be dealing with it?" 

"Happy, where's Grumpy?" Logan replies.

"That would be you," Tony shoots back.

"You know Happy isn't good at negotiations," Pepper says as she sidles her way through the morning crowd gathered for breakfast.

"Don't look at me," Tony says. "I'll just tell them to all go to hell. For fuck's sake they just tried to kill my husband."

"Oh no, is Steve all right?" Pepper asks.

Logan gestures behind them at the cafeteria they've left. "I thought I was getting a beer."

"Would you like to clean up first? Tony never thinks about these things, he likes to stink."

"Hey."

"I just want a beer," Logan says and turns to look over his shoulder at the receding kitchen. 

"You never told me, is Steve okay?" Pepper says and as Tony's about to answer her, three teenagers rush by forcing her to yell at them to slow it down. She splits her attention between Tony and the teenagers, decides on the teenagers and starts away, calling behind her, "Tony, get Mister Wolverine. I'm sorry, Logan, to his quarters and let him take a shower. We still need to talk about those components but I think I can hold that off, but you have a meeting with Happy later-." She's out of hearing range before she's finished with her directions.

Tony faces Logan and frowns. 

Logan opens his hands and says, "I just want a beer."

"Will a bourbon do?"

"Anything," Logan replies.

"Then come on, I have some stashed on the way to the medical bay. I want to see Steve."

Logan remains silent as they pass through the corridors toward the medical bay of the base. Tony likens it to being hunted, he feels a little like he’s prey and Logan is playing with him. He almost wants to say it isn’t polite to play with your food. The sidelong glances and the radiating anger mixed with the audible heavy sighs irritate Tony until he finally stops and presses a hand against Logan’s chest. He knows he’s just asked to die, but he’d rather get it over with.

“I thought you were a little more relaxed, five minutes ago. When you heard we didn’t discriminate you seemed a little more at ease,” Tony says.

Logan cocks an eyebrow at Tony and cracks his neck by just rotating his head. It’s creepy and Tony steps back. “Good for you, you decided to do the right thing. But what I’m seeing, what I’m hearing ain’t giving me any confidence that you can pull off surrendering the kid to our newest overseers without him dying in the process.”

“What you’re seeing?” Tony shoves him into a small room along the side of the corridor. He hits the lights and says, “What you’re seeing is the last technologically advanced colony of the human race. The only colony with any balls, and the only colony ready to take on our latest and greatest invaders from planet shitheads.”

“No, what I’m seeing is one man, Captain America – no, Steve Rogers – who’s being the complete idiot he always is. He’s playing superhero again and playing martyr. The god damned kid has a Jesus complex.” Wolverine snarls at him.

“Do not say that to him, he might whip your ass,” Tony says and raises both hands as to demonstrate his non-threatening status. “You want it straight?”

“Yeah, I do before I get any deeper into your little Stark world here,” Logan answers.

The room they ducked into is small and serves as more of a storage area than anything else. There are broken machine parts and rolls of cable strewn about the floor. Tony waves to one of the huge spools of cable. As he sits, he folds his hands and studies Logan. 

Logan assesses him, straightens his shoulders, and decides to lean against the door frame. Tony has to look up to meet his eyes, but he refuses to allow it to intimidate him. 

“About six months ago we figured out a way into their satellite system.” Logan opens his mouth to comment and Tony stops him with a single lifted index finger. “It doesn’t allow us direct access to their systems, but it has enabled me to figure out a reasonable facsimile of their computer lingo. It’s complex, but I was able to crack it.”

“Goody for you.”

Tony exhales, never an easy audience. Why doesn’t anyone appreciate his genius? “We have a mole inside, she doesn’t have direct access either, but what she’s been able to funnel to us, I have been able to use.”

“This helps us how?”

“What I found out was pretty spectacular. Their God Machine, we all know, needs a living being to power it.”

“Yep, old news, Stark.”

“What you don’t know is the God Machine doesn’t exist in this reality,” Tony says and gets the exact same perplexed look from Logan that he first received when he revealed his discovery to Steve. “It exists in their time and their reality.”

“Okay, let’s say I believe you, and, better yet just for shits and giggles, let’s say I understand you. Who the hell cares?”

“You should, because what it means is that if I plant the right command in their little computer system I can fling them back to where they belong,” Tony says and crosses his arms. Accolades would be nice, but Tony would definitely settle for the snarl disappearing from Wolverine’s face.

“So, you set up the kid and fling him back with them? I ain’t going for that,” Logan says. 

“No, the plan consists of planting the command to, as you say, fling them back to their reality, but the God Machine uses a singularity to travel from one reality to the next,” Tony says and rubs his temple. Shit he really needs an aspirin or a shot one; or the other will do. “If we catapult them with the right calculations, I can get it so that they never arrived here at all, I can get it so that they disappear from our time line forever.”

Wolverine leans back against the door frame and considers him. “Explain it to my little brain. You’re going to send them back in time to their reality. What stops them from just repeating the same old, same old with their evil Reed?”

“They’ll never appear on the other side,” Tony says. “That’s the beauty of it, if I do the calculations right – and I always do – I can get their God Machine harnessed in the singularity and it will never reappear, it will effectively disappear from time and space. Caught in the singularity, it cannot free itself.”

“So, Steve will be forever connected up to that damned thing? Are you nuts?” Logan stands up, straightening his shoulders, and glaring down at Tony. “How the hell could he agree to this? What the hell did you tell him? It’s for the greater good?”

Tony raises his hands in surrender. “Listen, you have it wrong. Once JARVIS interfaces with their computer, he will rewrite it. It will essentially turn back the clock on their use of the God Machine. That in turn will cause the God Machine to progress backward in time; Steve will not be a part of the machine.”

“And?”

“JARVIS will command it to stop in mid-transition. It will never escape the singularity, but everything and every planet it touched will be reset.” This part is the hardest, this part is something Tony doesn’t want to confess, because it means he loses everything, but saves everyone.

“So, the world, Earth will be like it was before the invasion?”

“Yeah, I’m figuring it so that we can have a year to be safe.” Tony swallows and feels like he just choked. He clears his throat and looks to the side. He doesn't want to see Logan’s face when he realizes the implications.

“That means Steve and I-.”

Tony brushes by him, suddenly needing to see Steve. He twists the knob on the door and yanks it open. “Yeah, it means you win. You’ll get Steve, because a year before the invasion he was with you. Does that make you happy? Does that make it worth it enough to do this?”

Logan opens his mouth as if to answer, but no sound comes out.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Tony says with a shake of his head. “Stop treating everyone like they don’t understand the consequences; some of us do, intimately and personally, Logan.”

  
It is three days later when the medical staff releases Steve. He’s fairly certain Tony had something to do with his lengthy stay, since he’s been loitering around the small hospital room, being overly considerate of Steve’s healing body, and too polite to everyone around him. Whenever Steve would wake, he’d find Tony sitting with his StarkPad perched on his knees and his head lying on the side of his bed. 

He doesn’t have a scratch on him as he tugs the t-shirt over his head and searches the canvas bag Pepper dropped off for him that morning. Tony promised to escort him back to their quarters once the doctors gave their okay. Steve frowns as he yanks out a pullover. The corridors get drafty and after all these years he’s still sensitive to cold. He hears the door rattle and he looks up, thinking it will be his husband when, in fact, it is Logan.

“Hey,” Logan says as he ambles into the room. The room is more like an alcove than an actual room. They don’t have the space for a working hospital so the medical area is a bay with curtained off areas for rooms. Steve was granted the only one with a door. It has a door because it used to be a storage closet.

“Hey,” Steve says and brushes back his hair. He likes to be tidy and put together, even in this day and age.

“I talked with Stark,” Logan says and indicates the door as if Tony is on the other side. 

“Yeah? And he told you?” Steve says and fingers his ring, his wedding band. 

“He did,” Logan says but stays across the room as if closing the distance may invoke the plan earlier than necessary. “You’re okay with this? This is what you want?”

“What I want and what I have to do, have, for a very long time, been two different things,” Steve says. Logan knows Steve always picks duty over self – that is one of the things that broke their relationship in the first place. He zips the bag and slings it over his shoulder. He considers whether or not he should wait for Tony, but right now, he just wants to get out of Logan’s presence. 

Logan holds out a hand to stop him, but doesn’t touch him. “You and me.”

Steve looks away and he knows for the plan to work, they have to have Logan. Yet, once Logan finds out what he has to do – Steve wonders if Logan will actually be able to do it. There’s no other way around it. He drops the bag on the floor and shakes his head. “Yes, we get another chance. Let’s make the best of it. Okay?” He tries his best to forget the ring on his finger, the vows he’s promised. 

“And your boy, Stark?”

“Tony will survive. He’s a survivor,” Steve says. 

“But deep down, I know this isn’t what you want,” Logan says.

“No, it isn’t.” Steve sighs. “Listen, we have to do this. Otherwise, we have to fight them on the ground and we can’t win a ground war. You’ve seen what they can do with the God Machine, the buggers eat flesh from bone. It devastates completely. The Earth is scorched and ruined. Even if we did get them out with a conventional war, we’d need to rebuild. It will take decades, hell, probably more like centuries considering how they’ve killed the soil, poisoned so much of our waterways. We don’t have a choice but to turn the clocks back.”

“Will we remember?” Logan asks, his words are tentative as if he’s hoping for something he shouldn’t voice. 

“No, we shouldn’t. According to Tony, everything will reset. We’ll be together.”

“To make the same mistakes,” Logan points out and his face is half in shadow. Steve cannot read him.

“The future is fluid. We could change it at any time,” Steve responds. 

“Christ, you sound just like him.”

Steve bends down and picks up his bag again. “Yeah, well, he is my better half.” The thought still sours his stomach. “Anything else?”

Logan shakes his head and steps out of the way. Steve makes sure he doesn’t touch Logan as he leaves the small room. All he wants to do is see Tony and forget about what they are about to embark on. During his month-long journey to find Logan, Steve kept the ultimate goal, the reason for it all, in the back of his mind, cordoned off like some rabid animal. He only focused on the goal to find Logan and to bring him to the base.

Now, he’s here and the crazed animal is ravaging every thought process Steve has. With singular purpose he pushes his way through the corridors, only nodding to acknowledge the frequent greetings from people he hasn’t seen in weeks. He just moves forward and shuffles through the crowds until he finds his way to Tony’s laboratory and goes through the security motions to get inside. In seconds, the door slides open and he enters. 

All the fight, all the fear siphons out of him when he glimpses Tony collapsed on the couch sleeping. He wonders if Tony slept at all while he was in the medical bay, or if Tony slept during his month long journey. He sets down his bag and quietly crosses the room to his side. Sitting on the floor, he gazes down at his husband, looks at the hand resting gently on the arc reactor. The hand has his ring on it, glittering in blues and silver. Vibranium. 

“JARVIS?” he whispers.

“How may I be of service, Captain?”

Steve rolls his eyes, when is the A.I. ever going to use his first name. “How long has Tony been asleep?”

“Sir has been asleep for four hours and fifty three minutes.”

Steve gives a low whistle. “That’s a new record. He must be exhausted.” 

“He was very worried about you, Captain.”

“I know,” Steve murmurs and reaches out to play with the tangles of Tony’s hair falling over his forehead. He draws a line along Tony’s cheek, down his jaw to the stubble of his beard. He recalls sketching this face, dreaming of it. He recalls their first tentative kiss after he’d returned from his long absence, after he’d left Logan behind to return to his duties as Captain America. 

Tony had parted from him and stared into his eyes. He had been in the armor, ready for the fight of their lifetime, trying to save the world from the Ornari. It had been Steve who’d initiated the kiss, it had been Steve who, after the battle, couldn’t _not_ give in to the heat and pain and need of knowing that Tony had survived the all-out attack from the God Machine. Without hesitation, Steve ripped his cowl away and tore away the remaining portion of Tony’s faceplate to press his lips like a hungry animal upon Tony’s mouth. He devoured it, plunging his tongue into a welcoming mouth, licking and tasting as he did.

As he gazes down at Tony, he recalls the feel of that kiss, the moments when he thought his heart would burst out of his chest because he had no idea if Tony would reciprocate his feelings, his actions. When Tony reached up, Steve thought it might be to push him away, but in fact it had been to yank him closer, to embrace him and hold him firmly in place.

It was all Steve could ask for at the time. Now he has everything he ever wanted. He caresses the side of Tony’s face, carding his hands through the thick tangle of hair. Everything he ever wanted at the tips of his fingers and he has to give it all up. He has to be willing to step into the God Machine and let them tear him to pieces. They tried every other way to deliver the commands from JARVIS and the only way to access the God Machine would be directly. He never wanted to be a martyr; he surely does not want to make this sacrifice. If there is anything in his life that makes him want to be less of Captain America and more of just Steve Rogers it is the thought of losing everything. 

He leans down and places his lips on Tony’s temple. It is warm and tastes of salt. When Tony stirs, Steve doesn’t even apologize. He bends down further and seeks with his mouth, with his lips and tongue to taste and devour. Tony’s hands are on him then, sliding up and cupping his face to hold him. There isn’t any moment of blurred consciousness, just vibrant awareness in the man holding him, kissing him back.

The ache in his chest, in his belly, down deep in his groin powers through him so fast and so fiercely that he nearly whines with it. He hasn’t touched Tony, hasn’t been with Tony in weeks. Even once he had mainly healed they’d only stolen a kiss or two. He wants Tony next to him, he wants to feel the rigidity of his muscles, the soft tenderness of his belly, the solidity of his erection. It is all he can do not to tear everything apart. He steadies his pace as he touches Tony, as he explores and allows himself some room to just allow the physicality of the moment to sink in. Tony is here, Tony is breathing, Tony is his.

His mantra for such a long time on the road had been – when I get home, when I get home. Now that Tony’s arms are around him and he embraces his love, it finally warms him that he is home. 

Tony pulls back and blinks at Steve. He’s fully aware, Tony can do that – go from absolutely asleep to completely and devastatingly aware in seconds. Steve drifts his hands down Tony’s shoulders, down to his pectorals and across the arc reactor hidden underneath his t-shirt. He kneels at Tony’s feet like a supplicant at an altar and he knows that’s sacrilegious, but he doesn’t care. He only wants to feel everything, be everything for Tony. He drags up the shirt and leans forward to kiss the center of the arc reactor. Tony slumps onto the cushions of the couch and lays his head back, lax and easy. 

Steve plays his tongue along the edge of the reactor eliciting a quiet sigh from Tony. He moves and laps at a nipple while playing lightly with the other. He’s not touching firmly enough to elicit any desire or passion, just enough to awaken Tony’s senses. He thinks of Tony as a fine instrument in many ways. Not a musical instrument but a tool of Tony’s own design. Tony invents himself over and again for the world, but his body tunes only for Steve. 

Steve trails his mouth down Tony’s stomach and inches toward his groin. The taste of Tony, the lingering feel of flesh against his tongue sweetens the need inside until it heightens and grows. He pants and hyperventilates a little but he knows he has to slow down or he’ll be no good for Tony.

He focuses on Tony’s button and zipper, putting it apart and down. For a second he has Tony brace his hips upward and he tugs the jeans down over his hips, leaving them bunched up on his thighs. When he releases Tony’s erection the tightness in his chest squeezes any air out of his lungs and feels like he might go into a full blown asthma attack – the first in over seventy years. The sight of Tony sends him spiraling until he places his hand on Tony’s abdomen and leans forward to take the weight of his erection between his parted lips. 

He drags his tongue along the underside of Tony’s erection and feels Tony stiffen beneath him. He pumps back and forth with his mouth and then gravitates to caressing his sac and teasing just behind it. Tony groans and places both hands on his own thighs. 

“God, baby, missed you so much,” Tony whispers and his words are airy and breathless as if he’s run a million miles.

Steve continues, not deterred from his work and his intent. He feels the arch and want of Tony as he relaxes his own throat and allows the blunt head of Tony’s erection to hit against the roof of his mouth, and then slide into the back of his throat. 

Tony moans out a few words which are garbled and broken, then his hands move from clenching his thighs to grasping Steve’s head. Steve abandons his task and opens his mouth to free Tony which only causes a whine to escape Tony’s lips. He shoves Tony’s jeans downward to his ankles. Steve smiles at the sight of Tony so undone and wanton. He pushes Tony’s legs apart and laps at his balls, taking one then the other in a gentle roll in his mouth. Tony sits up straighten and cries out.

“Son of a-.”

As he does, Steve immediately finds his erection again and downs his entire length in one gulp. He thrusts Tony into his mouth, encouraging him to pump and move. The sounds, the smells, the sight of Tony turns over in him until Steve can barely think, until he’s a pulsating raw nerve of need and want and desire. Tony actively pushes in and out, as Steve opens for him, but uses his tongue against his velvet erection. 

“More, baby, suck, harder,” Tony directs and scratches at Steve’s head.

He puts some force into his sucking and feels the tension culminate and the moment before he climaxes Tony stiffens and yells out. He comes in waves of hot ribboned semen and Steve drinks it down. 

Tony pants and arches and then collapses, his face an expression of startled pleasure and satiation. When he’s able to look at Steve again, Steve releases his hold on Tony’s penis and slips up to kiss him. He shares the taste of Tony’s own come with him and they kiss with a languid, unhurried ease as if everything in the world is right and good and perfect. But it isn’t and everything will be torn away, ripped from him like Bucky falling from the train again. 

He stifles a sob but he isn’t fast enough and Tony slides a hand under his jaw and lifts his face to search his expression. 

“What?”

“I don’t, I can’t-.” But he’s too ashamed to say he doesn’t want to do this, that he can’t give everything up, he cannot give up Tony for the whole of the world. Why is it his damned destiny, why is it his responsibility? Why do they have to sacrifice their love for everything? Is it worth it?

“Oh, baby,” Tony says as if he reads Steve’s mind. He touches his lips to Steve’s mouth, and the kiss holds something more now, it holds a promise and a pain within it that stirs a blaring fear in Steve. “I love you.”

“I can’t Tony, I know I have to but I can’t,” Steve says. He feels like freaking Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane with his doubts. Now, he feels like a sacrilegious freak for comparing himself to Jesus Christ. He does have a god complex, Logan is right. He laughs a little and it sounds hysterical, a little crazy.

“Shush,” Tony says and stops him with a kiss again. It stills him, the touch of Tony, his anchor, keeps him safe from all of the reality. “Tell me, Steve, and I’ll stop it all. We don’t have to do this. I won’t do this, if you aren’t one hundred and twenty percent sure. We can find a place, away from everything and everyone. They won’t find us. I’ll do it for you.”

Hearing Tony say it, knowing Tony would throw out the fate of the entire world for him crushes him, brings him back to reality, and he shakes his head. There are tears in his eyes and he whispers, “No.”

Tony leans over and kisses the crown of Steve’s head. “Come to bed, baby, come to bed and make love with me.”

They find their way to the back room, beyond Tony’s laboratory. It is a small space with only a full sized bed, far too small for both of them to comfortably sleep. But it has always been enough because they are barely afforded the luxury of sleeping together. Tony shucks off the rest of his clothes and slowly, methodically undresses Steve. While it is not clinical in nature, it does not hold any sensuality. It feels like they are wrapping up everything they have of their lives together into these moments. From when they confronted each other on the Helicarrier to the moments of Steve’s kiss confessing his love for Tony. 

“Come,” Tony says and takes both his hands and leads him to the bed. Somehow or another, Tony’s already has the lube sitting on the bed waiting for them. Tony falls backward onto the bed and Steve follows him. 

He takes his time preparing Tony. This isn’t about thrill and the excitement of climax, but more about the touch and union, something he’s longed for and needed for over a month. Tony whispers and moans and tells him how lovely he is. Steve smiles; leave it to Tony to top from the bottom.

When he perceives that Tony aches with need, he positions himself and breaches him to a slight intake of breath. Tony looks up to the dark ceiling and steadies himself before he looks back at Steve, before he locks eyes with him. Wrapping his legs around Steve’s hips, Tony hauls him closer and Steve drops down. He curls his arms under Tony’s back, and then clasps onto his shoulder. He sets up a tantalizingly slow rhythm, something that both drives them further into their yearning and need while tormenting them with its purposeful pace. 

He doesn’t want to rush, he wants to stay like this, forever encompassed by Tony. He wants the hot seed of desire, the coil of tightened need to stay with him forever. He wants to remember these moments with his husband as he submits himself to the God Machine, to allow himself to be shredded time and again by the thing that ripped their world apart. He wants only to see Tony’s face, his darkened eyes in this moment, these moments of love mixed with a hot dab of lust and desire. 

They rock and pump and push, until they are both crying out, needing and begging for more. He stills and moves and thrusts and finally brings the rhythm to a crescendo and they both spill and coil and release at the same time. He’s panting and blind and deaf to everything else but Tony.

It is Tony’s hands on his face, his lips crushed to his mouth that brings him back to reality, that lets everything and everyone – every responsibility and every life – crash back into him. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Tony wipes the tears away and hushes him again.

“We’ll do this,” Steve says because he has to commit.

“I know,” Tony says and he hears the sadness in his voice. 

Steve nods and the tears still stain his face. Will history repeat itself? Will he leave Logan again? Do they have a chance together? 

It is Tony who says, “We’ll get it right, Steve, all of it.”

“Sure we will, Tony.” He cradles Tony in his arms and knows they are both fooling themselves.

  
Tony keeps Steve in bed with him for the next two days. He ignores the beeps and insistent calls from JARVIS and from Pepper. It isn’t about arrogance but about need and desire and finally love. He won’t let Steve do this – this horrible thing – without making sure he knows how much he’s loved. By the time they climb out of their tiny bed and emerge, Steve looks beyond satiated and slightly bruised, but mainly happy. 

In the end, though, they had to come back to reality, and Tony knew they had deadlines. He leaves the bedroom where Steve has just exited the shower, dripping wet and gorgeous with nice bites lining his throat and chest. He looks back just once and smiles with a wink. He tries to keep it light and airy, so that neither of them thinks of the next step, so that neither of them realizes the moment Tony steps out of the bedroom, the world crashes in on them.

When they’d first come to terms with the idea – and Tony and Steve vie for who is responsible for thinking it up – they hadn’t come out of their bedroom for a week. He ordered Parker to bring food and water. The little snot did so but with everything wrapped in webs. Little shit. Now the moments are upon them and they have to move forward, they don’t have a choice. He recognizes the momentary lapse Steve had two days ago, begging not to do this, not to commit to such an inevitable ending of their time together, is just that momentary. After all, even with America in ruins, Steve is still Captain America and he will be so for the rest of this life and for the whole world.

It aches a bit in his chest as he strides through the hallways, thinking of how the rest of Steve’s life is now clocked in weeks and not years. Shit, all of them have a shorter lifespan nowadays with aliens hanging above them, eating the Earth and the life on it in slow horrible methods. 

Clearing his head, he enters the main command center and nods to Rhodey. The meeting to get this whole operation swinging along happens in fifteen minutes. 

He opens the small briefing room that they set up for this specific reason. This will be the last planning meeting. If everything goes well, they will leave soon in days, if not hours. At that thought his heart skips a beat and he grabs hold of the back of a chair. Losing Steve but gaining the world – is it worth it?.

“Tony.”

He looks up and sees Pepper standing at the head of the table. She has been a rock, a godsend, the reason they function and that the human race has any hope at all. If it hadn’t been for her quick thinking and wise decisions at the point of the invasion, a Stark World as Logan called it, underground at Stark Industries would not have existed. As soon as the Ornari showed up, Pepper went into survivalist mode. She literally organized and prearranged everything so that they would have a functioning community underground. She’s the one people flock to, the one people find out about through the underground, and seek out. 

“Hey,” he says and knows his voice sounds weak and tired.

“Everything okay?” she asks. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, the way she likes and she’s wearing a pair of jeans and a white blouse. How does she do it, everything on her always looks so tailored? They are living in chaos and she looks like she just walked off of Rodeo Drive. 

“Oh everything is just okey dokey, my husband is about to get eaten by a god damned monster, everything is fine,” Tony snaps out and he immediately regrets it. “I’m so-.”

Pepper raises her hands and crosses the room while she interrupts him. “Don’t be, damn Tony you’re allowed.”

“Really, allowed, that’s a new one.”

She smiles at him and it is tender and loving. “Yeah, I think we can give you a pass on this one.” She reaches out and touches his chin, lightly and says, “Just this once.”

“Hey, get your own,” Logan walks in the door and sticks that grotesque cigar into his mouth that he likes to chew on. “I hear he’s already taken.” He tilts his head as he surveys Pepper. “But I’m not.”

“She’s taken too,” Tony says.

“What you get all the goods around here?”

“No, Happy’s with her,” Tony says.

“What’s with the names around here? Happy? Pepper?”

“Yes, and Grumpy, we know,” Pepper says as she pats Tony’s hand. She rounds the table and snickers at Logan. Turning her attention back to Tony, she says, “Is Steve coming?”

“He should, and Barton should be here-.”

“Present,” Clint says as he strolls into the room. His bow is strapped to his back along with his quiver of arrows. He throws himself into one of the chairs. “Any coffee?”

“Should be here soon,” Pepper replies and goes about shuffling papers at the head of the table. Tony’s not sure what the heck she’s up to, but they’ve kept a lot of their plan on hard copy to ensure no amount of hacking could actually get to it. 

As if on cue Steve walks in with a tray containing a decanter and mugs with sugar and cream. He sets it down, nods at Pepper, and starts pouring the coffee, handing one to Clint and then sliding the next over to Logan. It doesn’t escape Tony’s notice that Steve’s prepared Logan’s coffee without asking him how he likes it. Steve continues with the coffee, making one for Pepper and for Tony. He finishes by preparing his own last and then crossing the room to sit next to Tony. 

Clint swivels in his chair, kicks the door closed, and says, “Let’s get the party started.”

“This is it? This is your strike crew?” Logan asks.

Tony responds, “Actually the strike crew is you, Steve, and me. That’s it.”

“There’s been a change in plans, actually,” Clint chimes in when Logan frowns.

“Change in?”

“Yes,” Pepper says as she slides a portfolio of papers across the table to Tony. He examines them and grimaces. “Looks like there’s a high amount of raider activity on your route.”

“We change our route?” Tony says.

“Nope, raiders have spread out and unless you’re interested in spending a vast amount of time in Death Valley to try and get around them, we don’t have much of a choice. We go the main route or we go the desert.” Clint points at the map spread out by Pepper on the table. “So, I’m accompanying along with Parker.”

“Parker?” Steve says. “He’s a kid. He shouldn’t be involved.”

“He’s not that young anymore and we have kids on the front lines every day, they have more of a stake in this war than we do. It is their future,” Clint says.

Steve turns to Tony for support, but he shrugs and says, “I agree, if the kid wants to come along, we could use him.”

“We also have Storm,” Pepper mentions and flips open the folder to a dossier.

“Johnny?” Steve frowns and shakes his head. 

“No, Storm as in Mutant,” Pepper says and locks eyes with Logan.

“Storm’s here?” Logan asks and sits up straight.

“She’s supposed to get here soon. If she doesn’t arrive by your departure time, well, we move out without her.” Pepper opens his hands as if to indicate she has no control over the entire operation which is a load of crap, but being around Logan can get anyone a little antsy.

“She’ll be here,” Logan mumbles and grabs his mug like he might crush it. Tony slides his chair a little away from the man.

“Storm will be good to give us cover, so we hope that we will be able to wait for her to get here,” Steve agrees and he meets Logan’s gaze. It is startling and slightly off putting for Tony to watch them. He can see their familiarity, how they move and interact even when the space of a conference table separates them.

He looks away if only to clear his head. Flipping through the papers, he addresses the plan head on. It distracts him and keeps him centered. “We’ll get to their main base on the Gulf of Mexico.”

“And you think they’re just gonna let you walk up and say howdy?” Logan says with a cocked brow.

“No, I think we have a mole and she’s going to make sure they are ready for us. Natasha is the official liaison for the alien human interactions,” Tony retorts and sneers right back at Logan. 

“Fat lotta good that did us,” Logan says.

Clearing his throat, Tony continues, “Anyway, Natasha is setting up the entire meeting. She’ll be their liaison at the site, she’s fairly certain of that. Once we’re inside the base they’ll transfer us over to the ship and then we’ll go to the God Machine.”

“It sounds simple enough,” Clint says.

It is Steve who interrupts and says, “Simple but not really. The God Machine, everyone just thinks of as being in their main ship that hangs over New York.”

Tony takes up the explanation. “But it isn’t. We’ll be transported into the place and time where the God Machine exists. It is kind of out of time.” Tony looks at Steve, really sees him – notices the hollowed out bruises under his eyes, the forlorn expression. “If they let us in, all of us, we’re golden.”

“And if they don’t?” Logan asks.

“Well, the most important thing is that they let you and Steve in.”

Logan presses his lips together in a tight thin line. “Okay, I know the kid’s part in this; can you fill me in on mine? I’m not a body guard, shit Robin Hood over there could be the bodyguard, and they’ll know about my adamantium.” 

“Yep, that is the reason why they won’t touch you with a ten foot pole,” Tony smiles. “Adamantium is like poison to them. We’ve been gathering as much of the metal as we can find. There’s not a lot out there, and we’ve been using it to make our weapons and bullets. Unfortunately, we’re stuck earth-bound while they’re hovering above us since they already neutralized the air forces of the world.”

“Like some kind of dictatorial overlords.”

“I didn’t realize you knew multi-syllabled words,” Tony snaps.

Logan lifts up one corner of his mouth and snarls at Tony. Steve clasps his elbow and pulls Tony back. “The plan, Logan, is that you’ll have the code implanted on your claws.”

“The code on my claws, interesting.” Logan waits for Steve to further explain.

It is Tony who takes up the mantle. “With a nanites we’ll embed the viral code onto your claws. Once you are in the God Machine, all you need do is deliver the virus to the heart of God Machine. That will allow JARVIS to download the code and warp the God Machine and everything to change history.”

“Deliver it to the God Machine,” Logan nods. He frowns and shifts his gaze between Tony and then Steve. Tony watches as both Clint and Pepper keep their eyes averted. “What? How do I deliver the code?”

“Into the heart of the God Machine,” Steve says and his words sound a little airy, rasped as if he cannot catch his breath. “The only way to do it according to what we’ve gleaned from the info Tony hacked is to interface directly with the core. You have to stab me while I’m hooked up to the machine, Logan.”

Logan stands up, knocking his chair over in a clatter. He glares at each one of them, their solemn expressions, the papers flung over the table, and the notes of their plan. “Are you all nuts? Did something happen to you? Has living in a hole in the ground made you crazy? I’m not doing this; I am not going to be party to something you cannot even guarantee.”

“It’s the only way,” Steve appeals to him.

“No, you have bullets, weapons that are poison to them. We go in with them.”

“They’ll never let you aboard with them,” Clint says.

“Then they won’t let me aboard,” Logan says.

Tony shakes his head but doesn’t look up at Logan. He understands Logan’s horror, he understands how terrible their plan, how horrendous it is. “They will. I won’t turn over Steve; he won’t go willingly without you as the bodyguard.”

“You were right when I talked to you at that tavern in Kansas, Logan,” Steve says in a low voice. “They were searching, but not for both of us, just for me. You see.” He pauses and looks up at Logan. “They know about me, they’ve been searching for the perfect Seed for their machine for years. I’m perfect for it. A specimen perfect in biology as well as willing to do what is right for the rest of humankind. It is the best mix to power and work their machine.

“They would never ask for you, Logan. They can’t. They know who you are, they know the danger you represent. But if you don’t help us, there’s no way we can do this, and there’s nowhere I can run to be safe.”

Logan studies their faces and Tony observes as the pain and conflict fight over his features. Logan turns to face Steve and then says, “I need, I need to talk to you.”

Steve glances once at Tony and then back at Logan. He licks his lips and nods. Rising, he ushers Logan out of the conference room and shuts the door behind them.

After the silence grows too unbearable to accept anymore, Clint asks, “Do you think he’ll do it?”

“Yeah,” Tony says and runs a hand down his face. God, he is weary of this crap. “Steve will convince him. Logan will do anything for Steve.” 

“But can he do it, the actual act when he has too?” Clint asks.

Tony doesn’t look at Clint, instead he finds Pepper and seeks something out from her. Her eyes are mirrors of what he fears. “I don’t know, I know I couldn’t do it.”

Just as Tony finishes, the door opens again and both Logan and Steve enter. When Tony looks up to meet Steve's gaze he avoids it, but Tony catches a glimpse of pain and the etch of anguish as he grimaces. He sits down next to Tony and Tony cannot stop himself from reaching out, touching Steve's arm. He should be pissed, he should want to punch Logan in the face, and he does, he really wants to put the dog outside. Yet, something in him, something deep and dark sympathizes with the man. Steve is addictive; a wonderful man to call his own

"Okay, we do this," Logan says in a low growl. "When do I get the bug on me?"

"Right after the meeting," Tony says.

He nods but he hasn't sat down, he just leans up against the wall, all muscles and anger. Tony wonders if Logan is ever not angry, ever happy, and then he realizes Steve had probably given him refuge from all the anger and pent up frustration with the world. Steve had been his security, his haven. What would he do if Steve had left him, disappeared because Steve had been compelled to be something more, to do something more with his life, and to help others. Logan is an accidental hero in many ways, but Steve, Steve is a natural hero, regardless of the serum. It is the way he's made. 

They spend the next few hours going over the plan to get to the Gulf and eventually break up, bleary eyed and tired. Logan trails after Steve and Tony on their way back to the lab. Peering over his shoulder, Tony says, "Don't really need an escort." He tangles his fingers with Steve's, if it is blatant and obvious so be it.

"Thought I'd get the bug thing implanted after the meeting?" Logan says and cocks an eyebrow. 'But if you'd two rather go play house, I can go find a beer-."

"No, Logan, come on, we can get this done. Once Storm's here, we won't have any time left," Steve says and gives Tony a sidelong glance to shut him up. Tony only grumbles in reply, he kind of likes playing house with Steve.

Once in the lab, Tony points to a chair in the corner of the lab. He accesses JARVIS and turns on an overhead lamp to illuminate the chair. Logan settles in the chair but not without a hesitation, like he doesn't want to sit in it. "Don't particularly like being experimented on."

"Not a joy any of us like," Steve says and Tony has to wonder if Steve is referring to a specific time in his past. Steve is surprisingly tight lipped about how they found out what the serum could and could not do for Steve.

Tony sits on a stool and wheels over to Logan. "I'm going to strap in your right arm, okay?" 

Logan looks up at Steve and when Steve nods, Logan says, "Okay. Go for it."

With Logan's arm on the rest, Tony secures it with a leather strap and then says, "JARVIS, scan and give me visuals."

"Yes, sir." To his credit, Logan doesn't even startle. 

When Tony looks surprised at him, Logan only shrugs and says "After what I've seen in my life a disembodied voice is pretty tame."

The holographics appear, surrounding them as Steve stands off to the side, his arms folded, his feet at parade rest. Tony moves the graphics around so that he can study the adamantium skeleton more closely. "I didn't think you remembered much of your life?"

"Not everything, some things, just not everything."

"Probably more of a blessing than a curse," Tony mumbles as he works.

"I remember the important stuff," Logan replies and stares at Steve. 

Tony rolls his eyes but keeps working. He whistles as he studies the graphics of the skeleton before him. "Can you even swim at all? I mean what do you weigh?" 

"Why do I gotta take a dip for this little op?"

Steve steps through the holographics and Tony doesn't understand how he knows it, how he can feel the vibration of the contest between the two of them. "Can we get this done? I'm starved."

"What else is new?" Tony says and hears it in stereo echoed by Logan. He skips a beat and shakes his head. "Okay, now that was a little uncomfortable. Can you extend your-." Tony waves at his right hand. 

"My claws?"

"Is that the polite term or the technical term?"

"I don't give a rat's ass, you want 'em extended or not?"

Tony spins on his heel and whips around a graphic, drags it to Logan's right arm. "Extend your claws please."

As he watches through the graphic, the long adamantium-enhanced boney claws shift and extend, breaking through his skin at the knuckles. He winces a bit in sympathy but Logan doesn't so much as flinch at the splitting of his skin. Through the scan, Tony images the musculature of the claws, the way the muscles flex and extend. 

"How do you think the tendons attach?" Tony says and pops up the graphic screen to enhance the image.

"Don't know, don't care, are we going to get on with this so I can go and get a beer or not?" Logan says and frowns. 

Steve shifts and looks down at the claws, for a moment Tony glimpses something shift over his face - a hidden memory - and then it is gone. He wonders what the sight of the claws brings to mind for Steve. He shakes himself loose of the fears and gathers his wits to concentrate on the task at hand. "One of the things we need to do is add an alloy onto the metal of your index claw. The alloy itself is close to the elemental structure of adamantium but allows me to etch in the computer viral card to be downloaded into the God Machine."

"How's it supposed to actually run, Tony?" Steve asks as he sits down on a stool close by. 

"It won't run on its own. It will only activate and download once it has been initiated by contact with the God Machine. From what I’ve figured out of their computer system, it should interface much like a Bluetooth does." 

”Bluetooth, I still think things are named oddly these days," Steve adds.  
Tony reaches for the index claw and says, "I'm going to be etching this into the adamantium."

"Nothing scratches it."

"This will," Tony says and bends forward to use the welder with the strip of material, dropping it into the scratches along the claw.

"What is that?" Logan asks, nostrils flaring.

Steve lays a hand on his shoulder and states, "An alloy of my shield."

"It'll store code?"

Tony indicates the negative and he flips open the welder's mask. "Not really. What I'm doing here is literally writing the code on your claw. Once it is the God Machine - it should use it as a code just like it will use Steve's form and function to properly energize and transform their liquid goo into sentient beings. The God Machine assimilates everything."

“Clint said that part is like the Borg,” Steve says, obviously proud of his modern reference.

“It’s nothing like the Borg, not in that way,” Tony says and rolls his eyes.

"Well, it doesn't make a damn bit of sense."

"Doesn't have to, just as long as it works," Steve replies and nods to Tony to finish up. 

"This might take a while," Tony says as he hits the mask again. "You wanna get him a beer?"

Steve only hesitates for a moment, before he nods and says, "Sure."

Once he leaves, Logan says, "Smooth."

Tony stops his work and opens the mask again. "Listen, I get it, I know you still care for him-. Don't deny it, it's written all over your furry face."

"Nice."

"This isn't what I want, believe me, but it is the best way. The world gets to be not only saved but fully technologically functional again. We don't have to start the fuck over again. This is the best way. And you get him, so leave him alone now."

Logan lowers his head as if he's considering what Tony just said. His hands are in fists so Tony has to wonder what internal demons he's fighting. "Fine, good, let's just get this over with."

They are done by the time Steve returns. Logan grabs the beer, slides his claws back into place and pushes out the door without a goodbye. "He could just leave, you know."

"He won't," Tony says.

"Why not?" 

"Because he wants you and he's not leaving until he gets you." Tony sighs. "And he does, in the end he does."

"He won't, I promise."

"Chaos, my dear husband, chaos."

Steve laughs and there is a certain mirth in it. "Don't Tony, I get the whole butterfly effect and how even the smallest change will mean we will not repeat history, but there are some constants in this world. And one of them is that I love you and always will." He folds Tony in his arms and leans down to kiss him, wantonly, thoroughly, and with hot desire. 

Tony responds, loves him, and only hopes. Hope is all he has.

  
Steve reaches across the table to grab the shoe token and count out five spaces. He grumbles when he lands on Marvin Gardens, but the boy across from him hoots and demands the rent. Shaking his head, he cannot believe he's down to his last twenty dollars. He won't make it to Go to get paid again. There are too many land mines and sharks in his path. He glances up and sees Tony across the mess with Pepper. They are finalizing plans for the departure of the convoy, probably discussing what Pepper and the rest of the crew here will do if Steve and Tony don't succeed. The main backup plan still revolves around trying to get in touch with Thor. Jane Foster is the key for that, but no one knows if she's still alive. Last they heard she was on the run and might be in South America. Of course, Tony has always been working on the secondary plan, but they both know their primary plan is the best because it leaves Earth and civilization the way it was.

One of the children, he thinks they call themselves tweens these days, picks up her piece and counts out the spaces. She laughs with glee when she gets a ‘get out of jail’ free card. That would have helped him a few turns back. The game picks up when one of the boys has to surrender all of his funds to mini-Tony - or that's what the boys are calling him. He's the mogul with all the cash and the hotels. He cackles and rubs his little fists together.

When it is Steve's turn again, Tony ambles over and places a hand on his shoulder. He squeezes once, their silent communication asking for time alone. He responds with the affirmative, a light pat on the hand on his shoulder. One more roll and he'll be a goner.

"There it is!" the boy, with all the cash, screams and points at the dice. 

Steve hangs his head. "There it is." He's rolled a ten, placing him on Boardwalk with its magnificent hotel. 

"Oh, my Captain, you are definitely not money wise there are you?" Tony says with another light squeeze to his shoulder. "Twenty bucks? That's all you managed?"

Steve twists around and raises an eyebrow at Tony. "Hey, I grew up in the Depression; I understand the value of a buck."

"Maybe a quarter, not a buck, that's too much money for you," Tony teases. 

Steve stands as he gives all of the rest of his belongings to the bank and pushes away from the table. The kids are smiling and laughing. That is really all that matters. Tony folds his hand into Steve's as they move off.

"You really like kids, don't you?"

"Sure? Why not? They're a lot of fun," Steve says with a wave over his shoulder to the group gathered around the table. 

"Do you, do you sometimes want one or two?"

Steve stops, gazes at Tony, and recognizes the worry there, and lifts his free hand up to place it on the arc reactor. "I have all that I want here."

The rest of the room fades away as he focuses only on Tony, as his eyes drift downward to his lips, as he leans forward and touches his mouth. The scrape of beard and stubble against his clean shaven jaw and the taste of bourbon on Tony's tongue warms and excites him. He hasn't lied, he loves children, but all that he wants and all that he needs is right here in this man. He pursues and Tony relents, accepts with new vigor. Hands on his face urge him forward and Steve forgets where they are as he thrills to the feeling of Tony next to him, the solidity and mass. He disregards everything until a pair of dice hit him in the head and he pulls away at the catcalls.

"Get a room, Cap!" one of the boys yells as the other kids whoop and whistle. Another projectile (which happens to be one of the tokens) flies through the air, but Steve slaps it away before it hits Tony. 

"No fair!" one of the lot scream foul and they all join in. 

"Bunch of delinquents!" Tony says with a smile.

"Hooligans, if you ask me," Steve says as Tony grasps his hand and they weave their way through the tables of gamers to the corridor. Tony laughs the whole way and when Steve asks about it Tony only shakes his head.

"How long have you been awake and you still use hooligans?" Tony says and kisses him lightly. "You are completely pathetic."

"Why thank you, husband of mine," Steve says with a roll of his eyes. "I think I do just fine, considering I'm married to a _man_."

Tony stops and considers him, the warm laughter a distant thing, and he searches Steve's expression, his eyes. "You really don't want kids."

"I never considered it, Tony," Steve says and then stops. "No, maybe once, a long time ago. But kids, kids went out the window the moment I stepped into that laboratory and they injected me with the serum. Please don't think that not wanting children has anything to do with us."

"But it has to do with the serum?"

"When I took on the mantle of Captain America, I kind of vowed that I would be a good man, maybe not the perfect soldier, but always a good man. It's a responsibility. Like Peter says, with great power comes great responsibility. I can't be selfish enough to bring children into my world and expect them to deal with the fact I'm in danger all the time."

"But it's okay if you do that to your husband," Tony asks and a quirks smile. The charm is back in his eyes, where it belongs, Steve thinks. 

"Oh my husband," Steve says and shakes his head. "No, my husband wouldn't be the kind of guy- but Iron Man that's different."

"Different huh?" Tony says as he presses his body up against Steve so he can feel every muscle, every twitch and hardness. He has his arms around Steve in a loose hug. "How's that? Don't tell me, you're cheating with Iron Man." Tony licks his lips and leaves a trail of saliva that allows them to glisten.

"Oh no," Steve feigns. "My husband knows, he sanctions it."

"Does he now?" Tony asks as he brushes his beard along the underside of Steve's jaw - knowing full well it drives Steve into insanity and desire when he does it.

He swallows and says, "Oh yes, he does, completely, entirely, utterly," Steve whispers and his knees aren't locking like they should and he thinks the room is very far away as he drops in for another kiss.

"Get a room, there're little kids around," a gruff voice says that snaps them apart.

Steve looks up and watches Logan round the corner into the cafeteria.

“Well, at least he didn't leave."

"He won't," Steve replies.

"I know," Tony says and looks at him, his expression suddenly closed and pinched.

Steve brings up his hand and with a finger drags it along Tony's brow. "No, don't do that; don't think about it right now."

Tony captures his hand, kisses it, and says, "I won't, let's get a room like everyone suggests."

Steve sees Tony's intent, and wants it, too. He nods and returns the kiss onto Tony's fingertips. "Let's."

After, Steve practically hyperventilates from the lack of air as his body throws itself into his orgasm with abandon. Normally, they take things slowly, ease and dance into it. They haven’t torn at each other, ripped one another apart like teenagers since the first months of their relationship. Sex had become love making and love making had become an art form in many ways for both of them.

The art of lovemaking has been about exploration and touching, feeling and seeing, tasting and hearing. It has always been about the slide and grace of lips over muscles and flesh to entice and entrance. But this time as they tumbled into the lab, they barely made it to the bed. Instruments and tables crashed and fell, they jostled and struggled against one another, vying for dominance until Steve finally gave in and surrendered.

He didn’t mind it as Tony grazed his teeth over his throat, as Tony popped the buttons off his shirt and tossed it away. He hadn’t minded any of it. He needed the intensity of the feeling, the force of Tony’s passion to press into him, to fill him until he was beyond feeling, until it launched him into another realm and everything, every care dissipated except for the presence of Tony over him, in him and taking him. 

Tony hangs over him pitched fully into his climax as Steve shudders and tries to still his own breathing, tries to get it under control. As Tony settles, he looks down at Steve and smiles, then laughs. The feeling of Tony laughing and smiling while still filling him sends shivers of delight through Steve and he brings up shaky hands to thread fingers through the mass of tangles. He cards his fingers through Tony’s hair and plays with it, then brings him closer to share a kiss.

It is the kiss that has always kept him, it is Tony’s full attention to it. Tony doesn’t do anything half-assed and he sure as hell kisses like it is always his last. There are times even Steve has trouble breathing, so much so he has to push Tony away. 

This is not one of those times. He would gladly suffocate to keep tasting Tony, to remain with Tony’s lips pressed to his, to recall every slide of his tongue and bite of his teeth. He would give everything he has to ensure this would be how he would end.

It startles him, this thought, enough that he quakes, and jolts a bit. Tony notices and pulls away, leaving Steve all the poorer for the loss. He searches Steve’s face, his expression and says, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Steve says.

Tony shakes his head, slowly disengages and slides to the side. He rests his head on Steve’s broad chest, hand roaming up and down. “It’s always something. Tell.”

“It’s just,” Steve says and then starts again. “Erskine asked me to always be a good man, maybe not the perfect soldier but always a good man.”

“You have been, you are,” Tony says. 

“Maybe, I’m not sure,” Steve says. “When Bucky died, I wanted revenge and I threw everything I had at Schmidt.”

“You avenged him, you are the first Avenger,” Tony replies and kisses his nipple.

“I often wonder if I did the right thing.”

“Personally, since you saved the whole of New York, I’d say yes,” Tony responds and shifts to prop his chin up on his fisted hand on Steve’s chest. “What’s this really all about?”

“I don’t know if I can be a good man,” Steve says and knows he has to get over this. They only have days, maybe only hours. 

“Tell me, Steve, I can do this,” Tony says. “I can get Pepper on the line, tell her the whole thing is off. We’ll be out of here today. I can get us to the South Pacific.”

“Really what is it about the South Pacific?” Steve says. “Both you and Logan want to steal me and go off there.”

“He offered to take you away? Is that what he wanted to talk to you about during the meeting?” Tony asks, his face masked.

“No, earlier he did,” Steve says and knows this isn’t proper etiquette to be talking about a former lover while lying in the arms of his husband. 

“So,” Tony says as he drops down and away from Steve. He lies next to him but not truly touching him. “What did he want?”

“Not much,” Steve says and doesn’t tax Tony to come back into his arms though he feels bereft. “He wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure?”

“That I wanted it, that you weren’t lying,” Steve says and looks at Tony. He isn’t looking at Steve, so all he glimpses is his profile.

“He thought I was lying?”

“He asked how sure I was that you weren’t lying to me about the plan,” Steve says. “I told him damned sure.”

Tony turns to face him and his eyes are dark and fearsome. “You believe that, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Steve says. “I know you, I don’t doubt you.”

“You shouldn’t, you know,” Tony says and runs a hand down the length of Steve’s arm until he laces his fingers into Steve’s. “But I won’t make you do this, if you don’t want to. We can wait to find Thor. I can work on the bridge. We can unbury Bruce.”

Steve lays his free arm over his eyes and says, “As much as I would love to do that, we both know that even if we won a straight up war with the Ornari, we’re stuck with a devastated world, and a planet that won’t be able to sustain life for very much longer.” Steve drops his arm. “We really don’t have much of a choice. This really is our only plan.”

Tony gets up and climbs over to Steve, wrapping his body around him. “Maybe we haven’t thought up all the options. If we had Thor here, he could help us. Maybe there’s some Asgardian magical crap that can save the world?”

“And you’re willing to bet on that?”

“I’m not willing to give you up.”

“And I am never willing to give you up either,” Steve says and leans forward to kiss Tony just as an alarm rings. He jumps a bit, unsetting Tony. “Damn it, sorry.”

Tony moves off and rubs his nose, “Don’t worry I was thinking of getting a nose job anyway.”

“Shut up,” Steve says and gives him a push. “JARVIS, cause for the alarm?”

Alarms went off in the colony all the time. But one that sounded in their bedroom usually meant a serious condition or incident in need of their immediate attention.

“Agent Barton reports an unusual storm on the horizon. Winds have been clocked at approximately seventy miles an hour with thunder and lightning.”

Steve sits up as Tony leaps off the bed. “That’s either Storm or Thor.”

“Either way, we’re on our way JARVIS. Alert Colonel Rhodes and Pepper,” Tony directs.

“Already done, sir.”

In a jumble of arms and legs they find their clothes, though Steve frowns at the state of his shirt. He liked that shirt. He throws it to the side and digs in their small closet for another one. He ends up with an old SSR t-shirt and his jeans. He laces up his boots as Tony runs fingers through his own hair.

“Okay?” Tony says.

“Oh, you most definitely look like a leader with come all over your hair,” Steve says.

“What? What?” Tony says in a panic and starts with the finger brushing again. Steve cannot keep a straight face as Tony frantically pats at his hair. “There isn’t anything there, is there?”

Steve licks his lips and shakes his head no.

“You know _Something about Mary_ scarred me for life, you do know that, don’t you?” Tony says and buttons up his fly as he opens the door to their room.

“I have no idea who Mary is,” Steve says as he follows him.

“Seriously? It is a movie called _Something about Mary_ ,” Tony says and rolls his eyes. “You are pathetic, you know that don’t you?”

“You still love me,” Steve says with a smile. That stops Tony and he steps over to Steve to embrace him. He pecks him on the cheek and then makes something serious out of his kiss. It warms Steve and curls his toes.

“Yes, I do, I truly do,” Tony says. They pause, both of them. Steve seeks something in Tony’s eyes and finds it there. It stills him until Tony kisses him again and promises. “It’ll work out.”

“It will,” Steve says.

They leave the lab and head down the corridor to greet their new visitor. Though Steve knows it is most probably the mutant Storm, he only prays it is Thor instead.

  
Only a handful a people gather for their final farewell, because barely anyone knows they are setting off on a mission to save the world and change history. Tony scans the area and sees Steve checking over the bike they will ride together. He’s like a mother hen with the thing, but Tony can’t blame him; his own nervous energy had him up all night. Even as he goes through a mental check of everything for the base, for the convoy, for the mission, his eyes drift back to Steve. 

He keeps reminding himself that these are the last minutes he’ll have with Steve, but the finality of their situation eats a hole right through his heart that even the presence of the arc reactor cannot impede. He sighs and checks the palm repulsors he has hooked up to the reactor in his chest. He designed a way to use the repulsors as his weapon of choice without the armor. He cannot use the armor on his way to meet the Ornari. Flying over to the Gulf would just not be the way to go, considering most people think Iron Man was a traitor, and there’s no way he can fly both Steve and Logan at once for the long haul. So they will journey from California to the Gulf by bike.

He tricked out all the bikes; they have reactors as their energy source and some modified weapons for artillery. They should be able to hold off anything the raiders might throw at them. He sets up his link to JARVIS. There will be dead zones but he also has JARVIS downloaded into a small drive that he has connected to his ear bud. While JARVIS is not interlinked with their current network (though it is limited due to the aliens) isn’t the best situation, having him along will help immeasurably. Plus leaving him behind is akin to Linus discarding his security blanket.

He frowns and rubs his eyes. He’s too tired and too strung out to be going on this mission. Just as the thought crosses his mind, Logan pushes by him and says, ”Ready or not, Stark, here they come.”

“Fun, fun,” Tony says and watches as Storm follows Logan. She turns around and rolls her eyes at Tony in a clear demonstration of her intent to ignore the Wolverine. Tony’s never been sure about her, but when the Canadian contingency had offered any help, he snapped it up. They needed cover and Storm presented the best way. 

The mutants had been forced underground. They’d been hunted early on by the Ornari as prime candidates for the God Machine, but once one of them had been placed in the machine and mucked the works up, causing all kinds of havoc and leading to a scorching of the Earth, the mutants were persona non grata after that. He cannot count the numbers who’ve been killed. The fact that Storm agreed to come and come alone speaks to her bravery or her foolishness. She’s stayed close to the mutant population at the base, focused on survival and the children. It didn’t escape his notice that Logan and she happened to bunk together. He didn’t ask, and didn’t want to know. 

His attention drifts back to Steve, who’s currently talking with Parker. Steve still doesn’t think the kid should come along, but they are seriously under-manned, so Tony really has no choice. Plus, his weird ass skill set might come in handy. 

The whole of the south gate is cut off from any of the settlement’s residents today. They’ve used the excuse of operational maintenance, and he’s sure everyone will follow the rules. Just as he looks back to the door to find Rhodey, he appears. 

“Slacker, what’d you do sleep in?” Tony says and slaps him on the arm.

“Of course, but thought I might want to check in and see what my troops are up to these days,” Rhodes gives Tony a quick embrace and falls back. His face becomes serious and he asks, “You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be, don’t tell me you’re worried about us Rhodey?” In the end, bringing Rhodey into the know about the plan had been Steve’s idea. Tony agreed since Rhodey and Pepper will be the de facto leaders of the settlement in their absence.

“I’m always worried about you, you’re always looking to have the most fun. As I remember that doesn’t always work out too well for you.”

“As I remember, in the long run it did.” Tony shrugs and tries to push away the chill from the morning air seeping in through the opening of the gate. 

“In the long run, you think this will work, too?” Rhodey says. 

“It has to, doesn’t it?” Tony says and once again he finds himself staring at Steve. His heart hammers in his chest and he wipes a hand over his mouth. He so doesn’t want this to be the only choice. “Any word from the outside world?”

“What? The search for Foster?” Rhodey says. “Nope, nothing. We have no contact with South America at all. They’re completely dark.”

“We’ve gotta pick up the pace there, you know Brazil had gone solar before the invasion. They have to have some posts somewhere,” Tony says and crosses his arms over his chest, if just to stop from scrubbing at his scalp in worry.

“Will do, we’re thinking of a scouting party, but it might be difficult. Mexico is a hot bed right now,” Rhodey says. “The drug lords toppled when their market crashed and it has been nothing but mayhem ever since.”

“Just find a way, Thor is key.”

“You don’t think this is going to work, do you?” Rhodey asks and his face looks ages older than he is. Responsibility will do that to anyone.

Tony waves him off. “Just do it.”

“Hey, good luck,” Rhodey says as Tony starts to walk off. He stops and walks back, gives his old friend a hug and nods.

“Thanks, see you on the other side.”

Tony leaves him to check on the supplies with Barton and finds Pepper in a huddle with Steve. As he approaches he hears the two of them strategizing. “You know it won’t last, you’ll be together again.”

Steve lowers his eyes for only a minute and then looks up. “Nothing is assured, Pepper, I just want Tony to be happy.”

“He will be, because you belong together,” Pepper says. “And look, speak of the devil, here he is.”

Steve turns around to face Tony and his smile is genuine and pure and it reminds Tony of the first time he looked at Steve after waking up with him in the morning. Steve had already been awake, head notched up on a hand, looking over Tony and smiling. He wants that moment back so badly it hurts. He bites back his memories and his fear. “Check over everything?”

“All checks are completed. Everyone’s here, we just have to say our goodbyes.” 

Tony can see, recognizes how Steve is unevenly chipper. He’s trying too hard to be upbeat about their plan, about their departure. He can see through the thin veneer of his bravado to find the stark dread that underlies it. Their last moments together this morning had been hurried and nothing like what he’d wanted them to be, but romance and leisure died the moment the aliens invaded.

But Tony cannot burst his bubble of fantasy, because he wants to reside in it as well. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen. He doesn’t want to face the reality of losing Steve forever. One thing he hasn’t even considered, and won’t, is the very clear possibility that their entire plan might go to hell. The parameters are so narrow, he had to do so many leaps in logic in order to program the right viral code. The code etched on Logan’s claws has never been tested; it might have a glitch or a bug that might not allow it to work. It might be perfect and never sync up with the alien technology. Even so, it could work and send them back to the Ornari’s reality, but not into the vacuum of space-time. Steve could very well be hooked to the machine for many years to come, tortured and alone. 

He swallows down his terror and says, “Go say good-bye, I heard Barton has some news about that crazy lunatic in Russia running around giving the Ornari hell. Natasha said it was someone called the Winter Soldier. Crappy ass superhero name if you ask me.” 

Steve smiles and leans in to give Pepper a kiss. “I think he just wants me out of the way so he can make sweet, passionate love to you.”

Pepper blushes and says, “Captain America!”

“What? In my day that just meant he wanted to kiss you,” Steve says, pecks her cheek, and walks off.

Tony watches him join Barton and Rhodes and then turns back to Pepper. 

“Don’t tell me anything, I don’t want to hear the last minute confessions or what you need me to do if this doesn’t work,” Pepper says.

“You know me too well.”

“Of course, I do, I’m Pepper,” she says and slides her arms around him. She kisses his cheek and whispers, “Take care of him, he means a lot to us.”

Tony places his head on her shoulder. She’s wearing those impossible heels again. Where the hell does she get them in post-apocalyptic times? She must have the kids scour the abandoned stores for shoes. She’s taller, more magnificent than ever. She cradles his head in her arms and kisses the crown of it. 

“You can do this, Tony.”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t meant to be a hero.”

“Tony,” Pepper says and shifts his head so that she can meet his eyes. “You are a hero, you lead heroes, you will always be my hero.”

“God, Pepper,” he says and wraps her in his arms. She holds him, gives him some security before he hears the engines of the bikes whine behind him. He inhales, exhales, and pushes away. Nodding, he says, “Take care.”

“You, too.”

He walks over to the bike where Steve hands him a helmet. Logan and Storm are on another bike while Barton and Parker take up the third. He’s leaving the base in the lurch considering they are taking the three best bikes with arc reactors. Tony buckles on the helmet, notes that Storm has one on as well as both Barton and Parker. 

He pokes Steve in the side and says, “Helmet.”

Over the rev of the engine, Steve yells, “You’re wearing it.” He kicks the bike into gear and it speeds off. Tony clutches onto Steve’s waist as the two other bikes follow. They leave through the south gate of the facility and Tony can only hope that this is the last time he’ll ever see the place as a sanctuary for the last remnants of the human race. And he hopes that is a good thing.

  
Their main route takes them near the now defunct Kofa National Wildlife Refuge toward what once was Phoenix. There isn’t much left of Phoenix; Steve knows this because when he took the ride from Kansas back to Malibu, Logan and he tried to skirt the remains of the city. Too many raiders camp out in the skeleton cities, looting anyone who might happen by. 

Too much of Arizona is dry now, since irrigation has effectively been cut off and there’s little water to spare. Those who lives out in the dry wastelands Steve counts as the hungry, the destitute, the desperate. Most of the men and few women out in these lands now dubbed the Dry Beds have nothing to lose – they’ll be lucky to get out alive with all of their bikes and persons intact. One thing he knows for certain is that Tony has made it clear to everyone that the only non-expendable people in their crew happen to be Logan and Steve. He hadn’t included himself in the list and Steve physically flinched at the news, but didn’t argue. How could he, when it was plainly true?

 

They have to stop around two in the afternoon. The roads are baked and they need to find shade. They pull to the side of the road where an old gas station sits in shambles. The crumbling roof and shattered windows tell the same story to which they’ve been privy since the Ornari settled down and decided to wreak havoc over the whole of the Earth. He still wonders what’s happening in other parts of the world. They get small tidbits here and there, but not much.

They park the bikes in the back behind a shed Parker staying behind to watch them while the rest of them crawl through the wreckage of the station to get out of the bleaching sun. They’ll take turns keeping watch and he doesn’t like Parker out there alone. Clint knows it, and stays close to the broken door of the station where he can eye Parker from the side. Steve nods and settles against an old cabinet while Storm sits down next to him. Tony and Logan rummage through the garage. He has no idea why.

Storm raises an eyebrow at him. Her shocking white hair is cut short and she’s wearing what he can only imagine is some kind of suit or costume from the school. It looks uncomfortably hot, but he can’t spot a drop of sweat on her. She cracks open her canteen and sips some water. 

“He loves you very much in his own way,” Storm says and offers him the canteen. He waves it off. He can go much longer than the normal human without water. Then he remembers, she’s not just any human. He takes the canteen and tastes the water. It is cool and refreshing to his parched tongue. 

“I know,” Steve says. 

“It nearly broke him when you left,” Storm says. “You’re going to break him again.”

“It won’t matter,” Steve says. He keeps the truth hidden deep inside. Not everyone knows the particulars about the actual outcome – how they will be flung back to a year before the Ornari invaded. 

“It matters to me,” Storm says.

He looks at her and searches her face. She is a study in contradictions. So frail and beautiful, but also merciless and powerful. “Logan wanted to escape the world, forever. I didn’t. I had a duty. He was what I needed then, but-.”

“Did you ever think about what he needed?” She studies him with a critical eye.

Her question stuns him to silence. 

“You might have found an escape from the world with him, but he found with you is refuge,” Storm says. “He’s been through too much. A lot of people see him as gruff, seemingly uncaring, but he isn’t that at all. What he found with you-.”

“I know, I-.” He stops and shakes his head. “I could just think of myself, I could just think about us. I became who I am for a reason, I promised a long time ago to be a good man.”

“And being a good man means you have to be selfless and take nothing for yourself?” she asks.

 

“I had a duty,” Steve says and doesn’t understand why he feels it is necessary to justify his actions to the woman. He barely knows her, yet she’s concerned with Logan. “Why do you care?”

She touches her hair as if she’s remembering something but doesn’t share, all she says is, “I owe him. He took care of me, and I owe him.”

Steve looks over to the fallen-in garage where Tony and Logan scavenge through the rubble. He thinks he owes Logan a world as well. Logan helped him when he felt lost, when he needed to get lost after New York. Logan had been there to pick up the pieces. He agrees with her. “I owe him, too.” 

She smiles and then says, “Then we understand one another.” She stands up and walks away. He realizes they have more in common than he thought. 

Tony walks back and hovers over him as she joins Logan. “We’re just outside Kofa, we can ride through there. See if there’s any water in the canyon area.”

“Don’t know if it’s worth the trouble, and it is outside our route.”

Tony nods and places his hands on his hips. God, the man is sexy as hell, especially with the thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and temples. “You’re probably right; I don’t like the idea of camping near Phoenix though. Too dangerous.”

“Agreed,” Steve says as Tony sighs as he sits. 

“This is one fucked up world,” Tony comments. “I could fly there in minutes.”

“You could, but not the rest of the crew.”

“Should have made suits for everyone,” Tony says and plays with a wire he pulled from the wreckage. Steve notices the repulsor weapons gloved onto his hands. 

“Didn’t have the materials,” Steve replies. “Don’t have much of anything.”

“Yeah, if this doesn’t work and they can’t get in touch with Thor…” Tony says but cannot complete the sentence.

“Yeah,” Steve says and lets it hang in the air, the fact that even with the vast underground settlement; they will be forced to flee. It isn’t sustainable forever, especially as more and more people migrate to it. They’ll have to abandon it and go searching for a better haven, and that just doesn’t exist. Sure, there are spots here and there, but they are in the same fix. The aliens are devouring the last of the Earth. They don’t have a choice but to ensure this works. 

Tony leans over and kisses Steve’s temple, but before he can react, Tony gets to his feet and claps his hands. “Break’s over, let’s hit the road.”

Steve climbs to his feet and ignores the dust accumulated on him and everything. He notes how Logan checks on him, nods and moves away. Everyone is on pins and needles. The mission is top priority, and he and Logan are the focus of that mission. Even Parker and his sass have been dialed down a degree. They get to the bikes and race off. 

In the end they get just past Phoenix but they are behind schedule because of the roads. Driving the highways would have been the easiest route and the one they planned, but vast sections of the roadways are pulverized and crumpled into rocks and pebbles. It looks like a giant came by and punched them. Steve and Logan encountered several of them on their way from Kansas and they direct the crew to take a more northerly route. It adds hours onto their journey. 

Eventually, Steve heads the bike toward Tonto National forest, just east of Phoenix. They’ve been lucky thus far; no one has noticed them or at least shown their faces. Parker shivered once during a break about three miles back, complaining about his Spidey senses. They kept on alert after that. 

They find their way to Roosevelt Lake and they hit pay dirt again because it is a reservoir that’s filled because of the Theodore Roosevelt Dam up on Salt River. Steve hadn’t known if it would have any water because when he passed this way before they’d avoided it and made for Malibu, driving through the night to get there. There’s water in the lake and it’s peaceful and surprisingly quiet. Considering that it looks like heaven on Earth here, he’s surprised there aren’t more people.

They decide to set up camp even though they didn’t achieve their target for the day. But they can use the water and they can set off early in the morning. Digging out the small, two person tents, he constructs two of them while Clint takes the third. Parker comes over to him as he finishes up the second tent.

“Hey,” Peter says.

Steve looks up and he opens up the flap. “Yeah?”

“Don’t think we’re alone,” Peter says and points toward the collapsed bridge over the lake. “I think there might be people on the other side.”

“Any around here?” Steve asks, he knows to take the kid seriously.

“I asked Logan if he could, you know, sniff any.” 

“And?”

“Didn’t go over too well,” Peter says and shrugs.

“Well, he isn’t a dog, you know.” Steve glares at the kid; he should at least be a little more respectful to his elders. 

“I don’t know his powers or abilities or talents, whatever you want to call them,” Peter says. “Seems like he might want to, you know, be a little more upfront with them.”

“Did it ever occur to you that at some point in the past Logan might have been up front with them and it didn’t go over well?” Steve says and shakes his head. “Anyhow, if you think we have visitors, we’re probably going to have visitors. Let’s set up a perimeter and make sure it’s clear before we decide to bed down.”

Peter nods and walks off before Tony joins him. “What’s the boy wonder have to say?”

“He thinks someone’s following us or watching us,” Steve answers and throws the bed rolls into the tent.

Tony dances his fingers in the air and says, “Oo, his Spidey senses are tingling.”

Steve rolls his eyes and can’t help but let a grin break out. “Something like that.” He grabs the tin mugs and the cans of food. “I’m setting up a perimeter, you need to start dinner.”

Tony grimaces. “You’ve got to be kidding me, I don’t cook.” He looks at the can of beans as if it might be a grenade.

“Easy enough, you just open it up,” Steve tugs out a pocket knife from his pocket and tosses it to Tony. “And heat it up. Nothing to it.”

As Steve walks off he hears Tony grumbling about his fate. He only smiles as he peers through the undergrowth near the reservoir. They’re lucky to find the water still in the basin. It’ll be enough to restore their reserves and move forward. He hopes they can make it to the Gulf in the next day, though the roadways are a mess and raiders are everywhere. He shakes his head, grabs Clint, and they set up the perimeter, ensuring it is clear. 

“We’ll keep two on watch tonight at all times,” Steve says and continues around the small encampment. The sun has long since set but night falls in slow waves across the water. “Peter thinks we have company.”

“Two person watch, sounds good then,” Clint answers but once they are out of earshot from the rest of the group he grabs Steve’s arm and asks, “You’re sure about this?”

“The perimeter or the whole mission?”

Clint keeps his eyes to the distance as he says, “Both, neither, either.”

“Yes and no for both,” Steve says. Clint looks at him then which is a rare thing since Clint barely if ever concentrates on the near. “I just want people to stop asking about it. It’s what we got.”

Clint says, “I think something’s up though.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I think Natasha’s holding back,” Clint says, his face pale in the growing moonlight.

“And you’re just telling me now?” Steve huffs out a breath. He doesn’t need to walk up to the aliens with any doubts. 

“I’m telling you what I can’t put together. Last time I talked with her she sounded strained, ambiguous if that makes any sense at all. I couldn’t get her in my sights the way I like.”

Steve understands this just to be Hawkeye’s expression for confused or confounding. “Do you trust her?”

“Natasha?” Clint says. “Yes, with my life. But-.”

“But?” Steve says.

“What if it wasn’t Natasha?” 

Steve stops his route through the underbrush and concentrates on Clint. “What do you mean?”

“We know the Ornari or whatever the fuck they like to call themselves, are something like shapeshifters, what if who we’ve been dealing with isn’t Natasha?” Clint asks.

“Then it’s all a setup to get us to hand over the Seed,” Steve says. He considers the news, the probabilities. But now isn’t the time to second guess the game, now is the time to go smashing through the front door and see if it will work. “We don’t have much of a choice, here, Clint. Keep your worries to yourself. No point in bringing them up now.”

Clint opens his mouth as if he might argue, but snaps it closed. He pivots on his heel and focuses on something through the tangled dry branches near the manmade lake.

Steve drops his voice and says, “What is it?”

Reaching back, Clint slides an arrow free and notches it onto his ever present bow. As Steve holds his breath, Clint lets it fly. They hear a startled yelp and then all hell breaks loose. 

“Incoming,” Steve yells as a dozen raiders swarm upon the camp. It is a free for all, not organized and half crazed. Steve doesn’t have his shield since it is still with the bike. He takes one out with a swift punch to the jaw and then follows through with a kick into another’s abdomen, causing him to hunch over and allow Steve to knee him in the face. 

Gunfire crackles in the air sporadically, and Steve scans the area as Hawkeye kneels to let the arrows fly to their targets. A few of the raiders have guns, but they must have limited ammunition since they are using it sparingly. He sees a burst of flames as Tony uses his repulsor against the encroaching horde. Peter’s hanging upside down from a tree and slinging webs to capture the attackers. In the center, Storm is standing still, eyes fixed on the clouds above and then lightning rains down with severe bolts of blue light. The Wolverine gets in a few slashes before a bullet slams into his skull and he falls like a rock to the forest floor. 

Steve races to the bikes, picks up his shield, and flings it with the force of his full body. It hits one of the assailants in the back, its fine edge slicing into the flesh as he falls. It ricochets and strikes another in the jaw, taking him out as well, before it finds its way back into Steve’s hands. With the lightning called down by Storm they are able to overcome the attackers in just minutes. Most are dead or gravely injured, a fact that doesn’t sit well with Steve. There are a few that are still in one piece, so Steve makes the only decision that’s possible.

“We have to move out, continue down the road.”

Tony nods but doesn’t say anything. Clint starts to dismantle the tents with Peter’s help while Storm and Steve go over to kneel next to Logan. Tony joins them as they wait. In minutes, the bullet pops out of his skull and he groans in response.

“I hate when they do that,” Logan says. 

“That is some freak ass power,” Peter says.

“Respect your elders,” Steve admonishes but lends Logan a hand up. 

As Logan dusts off the dirt and debris, Tony does whisper, “You know, Peter is right. That is some freak ass power.”

Steve suppresses a grin and orders the remaining lot tied up. Peter does it with some webbing. “Come on, let’s go. I suspect they have a contingency that’ll come looking for them, soon enough.”

“Not soon enough for us, fucking a-holes.” One of the few left awake spits at them.

Clint pounds him once in the face and says, “Didn’t you hear the man, respect your elders.”

Standing, Clint shakes out his hand and rolls his shoulders. Logan raises an eyebrow and comments, “Makes you wonder why we put our asses on the line for them, doesn’t it?”

Steve only turns away and says, “Nope.”

He knows why he’s sacrificing everything, why he’s risking everything. His eyes wander to Tony and he smiles as he says, “Not at all.”

  
They ride through much of the night without much incident except for a few coyotes scurrying along the open lands. As they journey, the main roads become impassable so they r-route to some of the more out-of-the-way paths. Even as the next day dawns they continue onward, stopping only for a quick break to eat and then move on again. By the time the sun is high, they’ve been driving for over twelve hours and fatigue eats away at Tony’s muscles. He needs to rest and so does everyone else, so he tugs on Steve’s jacket, knowing full well that Steve will know what he’s asking.

Steve acknowledges with a quick hand to Tony’s on his shirt and he says into the comm, “Looking for some place we can bed down for a few hours.”

Tony noted a sign a few miles back indicating they were just northwest of San Antonio. They should be able to get to the Gulf tomorrow, easily. But he wants to check the bikes out, ensure the arc reactors are working properly so they have no more surprises along the way. 

Steve finds a quiet secluded area near the San Antonio River bed that looks like it might have been a park at one time. Tony spots a play set for children about a quarter of a mile east of where Steve pulls the bike to a stop. It’s strikingly hot and humid as they climb off the bike, but Steve’s housed them near one of the park’s shelters and there are large trees with canopies hanging overhead. It looks like the trees are some kind of evergreen, but Tony’s not sure – he’s never been the botany type.

Barton pops off his bike with Peter in tow and yanks on one of the branches of the closest tree. “Nice, Sandpaper Tree, pretty. But don’t eat the fruit – make you sick,” Clint says.

“You know botany?” Tony frowns.

Clint’s shoulders rise. “I spend a lot of time on watch, I have to do something.”

Tony smiles and helps unload the bikes. The tents are set up since they are planning on sleeping. Both Logan and Storm set up the perimeter. It is a fairly secure place with a retaining wall behind them and an open lot in front of them. They should be able to see anything and anyone coming at them. 

The tents are constructed and Tony sees that Steve built their tent away from the others near a corner of the retaining wall covered with creeping vines and flowers. It is almost pretty, except it isn’t. It just reminds him that this is probably the last time he’ll sleep with Steve. He tries his best not to let it get to him, not to allow the feelings of utter weakness and surrender overwhelm him, but he fails and he ends up sitting on one of the benches under the shelter with his head in his hands. 

Barton comes and stands next to him, doesn’t move until Tony picks up his head and faces him. “Pull it together, the Captain doesn’t need you to break now.”

“Fuck off.”

Barton leans down and whispers, “You know him better than I do, what the hell do you think he’s going through right now? The stoic guys are always the ones that go postal in the end. Don’t make him think the only person he has to depend on can’t handle it.”

Tony regards Barton with his sleeveless vest, his sunglasses clipped to his pocket, his bow, and his arrows. He appreciates that Barton’s been without Natasha for months now, that he barely knows how she’s doing on a weekly basis. He knows that Barton is right – he knows it down into his bones, but it still aches, aches like he’s been stabbed.

He nods and stands up. Slapping Barton on the shoulder, he says, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Barton murmurs and leaves it at that.

After they eat, Tony crawls into the tent. Steve and Tony will be on watch in three hours so they don’t have a lot of time to sleep. Stripping down, Tony throws his clothes into a pile and lies on top of the bedroll. It’s too damned hot to even think, he’s not so sure about actually sleeping. Steve shuffles into the tent and immediately pulls off his clothes. He sighs and lies back on the bed roll, his arm beckoning Tony to his side.

“A little hot,” Tony says.

“I thought I was a lot hot,” Steve says but with a fond smile on his lips. He looks at Tony and the adoration nearly kills him, nearly sends him into a fatalistic spin.

Tony scooches over to Steve and places his head on that broad, beautiful shoulder. The heat radiating from Steve should bother Tony, but instead it comforts him. It means Steve is still with him, it means he’s still alive. He turns then and takes Steve’s face in his hands and climbs over him. Holding him he deliberately and thoroughly attacks Steve’s mouth. He wants to remember this because the chance, the possibility is there that Steve will become the Ornari’s Seed and none of this will work at all. He’ll have sacrificed the most important thing, the most critical person to him, in order to try and save the world. His kiss is desperate and aching and it feels nothing like love and everything like fear.

It is Steve who stops him, it is Steve who grips his shoulders and hauls him away. “Tony.” He can’t speak, there are no words for his terror, for the knowledge of what they are up against. Steve’s eyes search his face, his expression, before softly landing back on Tony’s. “I’m here, we’re going to win this. You know that, right?”

“Steve,” Tony says and everything, every ounce of his fears, of his love has been poured into that single word, the name of his love. 

Steve manages to flip them somehow and he whispers in Tony’s ear. “Let me make love to you. Let me show you that being with you gives me the strength and courage to do this.” Steve’s mouth is right next to Tony’s ear, he can feel the heat of each breath. 

“Show me,” Tony says and he hears doubt in his words, as if he cannot possibly believe that Steve would need him. Steve moves off for only a second and rifles around in his pack. He digs out the lube and condoms but Tony stops him. “No condoms.”

“It’ll get messy, Tony.”

“I want to feel you in me, I want to know,” Tony says and he sounds more desperate, more broken. 

Steve abandons the condoms, gathers Tony to his chest, and embraces him. “God, don’t, Tony, don’t.”

Looking up at Steve, he sees him clenched, his eyes closed as if a storm batters his face. He strokes a hand down the line of his cheek and hushes him. “I promise, I won’t, but make love to me and show me.”

Steve is slow and meticulous. He lies Tony back down on the bed roll, kisses him lightly on the mouth, then the eyes. He trails kisses along his throat down to the arc reactor. Each feather light kiss sparks and flares like tiny explosions on his skin. He pants and fists his hands opened and closed. Steve continues his soft and tender kisses, touching nipples and flank, and down to his hip bone.

“Steve, touch me,” Tony begs and grabs for him.

Instead of complying, Steve lifts up and blows lightly over Tony’s skin to raise goose bumps. Sitting back on his haunches, Steve glides his hands over Tony’s pectorals, to his arc reactor, and then down to his abdomen, playing and feeling like he might be sculpting him. Every touch, every brush of hand to flesh raises new shudders through Tony, brings him to an edge and then drops him so softly to the ground. He muffles a moan and whispers, “Steve.”

Steve glances up to meet his gaze and smiles. It is tender and sweet. “I’m going to make love to you now, Tony.”

He ducks his head and licks a line up Tony’s erection. Tony groans and hitches his hips. He tries to forestall the movement but Steve lies his head on Tony’s thigh and says, “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” Again he takes Tony in his mouth and it sends rivets of pleasure searing through his spine so much so that Tony has to move, he can’t stop the thrust and pump of his pelvis. 

As he moves, Tony tangles his hands into Steve’s hair to hold him steady, to make sure he’s unhurt. Just the thought of Steve hurt sends a spike of pain fiercely through him and he cries out in a sob of anguish he’d wanted to keep hidden. Steve releases him and crawls up Tony’s body. In the small space there isn’t much room to hide, there’s no way to conceal the truth. 

“Stay with me, Tony, stay with me in the here and now,” Steve says as he dips down to kiss Tony. The kiss consumes him, wipes away the fear until it is only an ember glowing in the dark. Soon, Steve’s hands are fingering him with lube until he’s panting and groaning from the force of it. 

Steve crouches between his legs, his hands busy and thrusting into Tony as he mouths at Tony’s erection. He does the most delicious things with his tongue, curving it around the tip and moving his lips over and around the ridge. Tony rasps out his breaths, holding Steve’s head and shivering under him.

Releasing his hold, Steve hovers over him and says, “I love it when you do that, when you quake when I touch you.” Tony looks up at Steve and sees his eyes are dilated wide and dark. “I’m going to slide into you now Tony, I’m going to make love to you, and I want to see how you shiver for me.”

Tony clenches Steve’s upper arms as he’s breached, feels his eyes roll and then come back into focus. The feeling, the width and scope, take his breath away until Steve is telling him to breathe in quiet hushed tones. He follows Steve’s directions, he would follow Steve anywhere. He’s never been a perfect man, but with Steve he has always been a better man.

The rhythm strokes into him until Steve is fully encompassed and Tony gasps again. The fullness spreads out until he thinks he can feel it in his fingertips, until the world funnels away and all he can sense are the inhalations of Steve over him, holding him, filling him. Steve holds his strength in check as he thrusts, as he drives into him. Tony aches and whines a little in the back of his throat as their juxtaposed hips abrade and glide against his own erection. The heat of the day and the small tent cause sweat to pour over them, dripping in Steve’s eyes, slipping between them as an impromptu lubricant for his captured erection. 

“Tony, please, please,” Steve moans into his ear as he keeps up the beat of their bodies together.

“Steve, tell me, what?” Tony whispers and kisses as he drags his stubble against Steve’s tender throat. He knows Steve thinks it is divine.

Groaning, a sound which sends bolts of pleasure through Tony so true and right he quakes with it, Steve says, “I can’t hold out, tell me, tell me.”

“I love you,” Tony says and, with those words, Steve arches and comes in a flood of hot semen into Tony. It strikes against his prostate and he gulps back the surprise as the heat of it, the burning sensation drops him off a mountain and his body seizes into a full orgasm. He falls away, oblivious to everything and everyone, until he feels the kind brush of lips against his temple, until he hears the murmured words of love.

“- love you, love you, love,” Steve says and curls around Tony’s body like a shelter. Eventually, Steve shifts off of and out of Tony. They lie together, holding and touching for what seems like forever. The beautiful ache in his bones and his flesh, he wants to remember forever, but he thinks it doesn’t matter since they only have days to live anyway. 

*oOo*  
By the time they drive into what remains of New Orleans, they’ve been on the road for five days, two days longer than any of them planned. Back in the day, Tony had been to New Orleans, rode the Mardi Gras floats, threw enough beads and caught enough of them to understand what living free really means.

Of course, after the alien invasion and the destruction of the States’ infrastructure plus nature, what he sees is really the remnants of New Orleans. The levees broke at some point and flooded the streets again. But this time there was no one here to clean up, no help at all. The levees let loose and the whole of New Orleans succumbed to Nature’s wrath. What’s left isn’t beautiful or decadent. What’s left only makes his heart ache a little more.

Steve walks beside them after they stow the bikes. They’ll go down to the river, to the mouth of the Mississippi and the maw of hell tomorrow. Tony points out the shattered remains of Bourbon Street. “Used to be a wonderful restaurant there, called Royale Café. Had the best port that left an after taste of chocolate on your tongue.”

“You’ve been here before?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, it was great, it was fun,” Tony says. “I don’t remember much of it.”

“Neither do I,” Logan stands next to them and fishes out the cigar again as Tony cringes. “Of course, I have an excuse. What’s yours?”

Tony opens his hands and displays all of Bourbon Street to him. “What’s my excuse, look around. Preservation Hall, the Jazz, the dancing, a hurricane at Pat O’Briens. Makes you want to eat raw meat and dance naked in the streets. Get up the next day and stumble down to Jackson square and eat beignets until you’re sick.”

“What about jambalaya?” Logan asks as he spits something out onto the pavement. 

The shops around them are ransacked and collapsing. Several of the ornate grille work balconies are either dismantled or hanging precariously from rusted bolts. Tony nods and says, “Jambalaya, knew a girl once, had a dog that dog would go nuts when you said the word. Never knew what he had against it, maybe it gave him the runs.”

Logan frowns but doesn’t say anything. He walks over to Steve and whispers something in his ear. Steve places a hand on Logan’s shoulder and the gesture feels so intimate and subtle that it stabs right through Tony’s heart. 

“Be right back,” Steve says and, before Tony can protest, Logan and Steve have walked a distance toward an old store. When Tony takes a few strides to follow them, Steve directs them to the door of the store and they disappeared inside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Parker says as he walks up to Tony. “Everyone heard you two, the other day.”

“What?” Tony startles at that pronouncement.

“Two guys fucking like that? I think the whole of Texas heard you.”

“Jesus, Parker, have some decorum,” Barton says as he joins them. He turns their attention back to the mission at hand. “Storm’s checking the perimeter. She’s not happy with what she’s found.”

“What?”

“We have marauders camped out in some of the buildings. We might want to stay out of the French Quarter for the night,” Barton says. He stops and his gaze zeroes in on the building where Logan and Steve disappeared. “Shit.”

“What?” Tony asks.

“They’re already here,” Barton says and takes off like one of his arrows flung from his bow. 

Parker’s after him in a dash and Tony flicks on his repulsor gloves and calls on their private comm link, “Storm, we have company.”

“Coming.”  
Before Tony runs two feet, the store front blows out in a wall of flames, shrapnel, glass, wooden beams and debris burst out of the shop. The blast slams him to the ground and he rolls several feet on the crumbling pavement before stopping. Fire engulfs the entire shop, hot and angry. He rolls to the side and climbs to his feet. Both Barton and Parker were only a few feet in front of him, but Parker has something wedged in his side and Barton’s slapping out flames licking along his flank. 

Smoke billows but the flames are hot and thick and devouring everything in their path. Nothing could survive it. Nothing. Just as the realization hits him in the gut, a barrage of automatic weapons fire peppers the street. He spins around and spots the marauders on the rooftops. Marauders are different than raiders. Raiders strike quick to get booty, but marauders are more like clear murderers. They like to kill people just for the fun of it, they kill and take nothing sometimes. They kill and leave the bodies for the carrion crows. They capture and sell their victims to the Ornari for their damned God Machine. 

The marauders are ruthless. As he stands there dazed by the events, Barton grabs a hold of his collar and hauls him into an empty tavern. He tosses Tony into the corner and then scurries back out to help Peter get to safety. The kid has a rebar shoved through his side and blood flooding down his pants. His face is deathly white. 

He taps his ear bud and says, “Steve, come in, Steve?” There’s only a crackle and he switches over to JARVIS. “Give me a read on Steve?”

“I am not picking up any signal, sir. His comm may be malfunctioning due to the heat of the fire.”

“How about Logan’s?” Tony says as Barton crouches low to the window and sets some arrows free. He hears a few yelps in reply. 

“His comm is off line as well. I have informed Ms. Munroe of the current situation. She should be here in less than three minutes,” JARVIS says.

He looks over to Barton and then to Parker. The kid hisses and presses against the rebar. He clamors over the broken tables and chair legs to his side. “Don’t touch it.” 

“I can’t-. Get it-.” Parker drops off and pants. “Get it out.”

“We don’t know if it hit a major artery or not,” Tony states but he knows it doesn’t matter. Out here, they might as well be in the middle of wilderness. The kid is dead if it has hit an artery, no one can help him now. 

“Get it out, I can web it,” Parker says. His eyes look sunken and his face already clammy. The kid won’t be able to web anything, he’ll pass out. 

“I’ll cauterize it,” Tony says and lifts up his repulsor. 

Parker blinks his eyes a few times and Tony wants him to hurry up, wants him to get this fucking over with because all he can think about when he has a dying boy in his arms is the fact that Steve is trapped in a fiery hell. The guilt wells up but he doesn’t bother to push it down. The truth is the truth. He doesn’t want to be here offering comfort and helping, he wants to find Steve. 

Before Parker can protest, Tony yanks the steel bar out. He howls and then promptly falls over unconscious. 

“What the hell did you do?” Barton yells from the window, peering over his shoulder but then turns back to the battle at hand. 

“Fuck it,” Tony says and switches on the repulsor on low intensity. He directs it at the gush of blood and knows it is already too late. He rips away the hoodie jacket and t-shirt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He doesn’t realize it until he’s halfway through cauterizing the wound that his sight blurs out from the tears. Glancing up, Tony sees Parker’s eyes are open but unfocused and lifeless. Blood runs from his mouth and nose. 

Not the kid. Tony leans over him and pats his face. “Come on, Parker, give me one of your snarky ass remarks. Don’t do this.” 

There is no response, no words, no breathing. Nothing. Parker stares up into the rafters of the restaurant. Tony looks around and, before his eyes, he recalls how places like this all around the city of New Orleans had vibrant life, more than any other city in all of the States. New Orleans beat a rhythm and pulsed with energy. People laughed and cried and danced and sang as if no one would judge and no one did. This was the place to come to be free of any inhibition. Crap on Vegas with its fake facades and stupid themed hotels, this – this was the city to be free in, to be alive in.

Parker slumps in his lap and Tony cradles his head and shakes. “Fucking damn it to hell.” 

He can’t truly recall the next few moments because all he knows is that he’s out in the middle of the street screaming bloody murder and shooting his repulsors at full strength at every roof top and alley way. He whirls around as gun fire tries to answer him and flashes his weapons on the snipers above him. As he does, he notices the clear day turns cold and dark and suddenly a wash of rain, torrential and harsh comes down around him. He doesn’t care, he continues to aim and fire without regard to his own safety. In seconds, he notes Barton is at his back, slinging arrow after arrow and then the world drops down around him and the place grows cold and damp.

When Barton grabs his arms and yanks at him he shudders once before coming back to reality, to the here and now. “That’s it, come on back. They’re all dead now, Iron Man. They’re gone.”

“Hawk?”

Barton places a hand on his face and nods. “They’re gone, you got them.”

Storm appears at his side and the rain ceases as her eyes grow defined again. With a lift of her chin to indicate him, she asks, “He going to be okay?”

“Don’t know,” Barton replies and Tony feels like he’s walked in on a movie three quarters of the way through. He doesn’t know these people; he doesn’t want to know their story. They are too desperate, too desolate. He wants a happy ending, not this one. 

Rubbing at his face shakes his head. It was all for nothing now. Parker’s gone, Steve’s gone. Christ, can Logan even survive-.

“Stark, Tony,” Barton says and yanks on his shirt again. He glances toward the burnt out rubble of the store front, glimpses a sliver of light bouncing off something, but then realizes it isn’t that at all. It’s movement. “Shit.” He strides forward, forgetting the devastation behind him, only thinking of what might be, what could be in front of him.

First, he sees a dark shape and then he grasps that it’s Logan – not Steve. It’s Logan dragging something, hauling someone out of the wreckage. As Logan staggers out of the cinders, he stops and finally lifts and cradles the figure in his arms. Tony races the distance, knowing it is Steve, broken and burnt. 

The fire scorched the clothes from Wolverine’s back. He’s shirtless and there are holes in his pants and his boots still smoke. Ashes flake off of him but he doesn’t hesitate, just cradles an unconscious Steve in his arms and says, “Where to?”

Tony looks back to the restaurant where they left Parker’s body. He flinches and points to the adjacent store which looks like it held a place to tell fortunes or maybe a voodoo artist. He directs them into the building; it is narrow and confined but it will be easiest to defend. Storm takes the back while Barton huddles in the front window. 

“Where’s Parker?” Logan asks as he lies Steve down on a cushioned chair Tony righted. 

“Didn’t make it,” Tony chokes out as he bends over Steve, notes the strong and steady pulse. With a quick survey, he pulls out his phone and asks JARVIS, “Scan for injuries give me the status.”

“Minor burns over his upper left quadrant with more serious burns of the second degree on his left arm, hip, and leg, sir. He is merely unconscious but does not seem to have gone into shock.”

Tony sways as the news comes over his link and he clutches the arm of the chair to keep from collapsing. He looks up and spots Logan standing there as if nothing’s wrong, as if the whole fucking building didn’t just explode around them. Something propels him, launches him with a strength he never thought possible. He leaps over Steve and thrusts his whole body into Logan, pushing him, slamming him down to the floor.

“What the fuck did you have to take him away for? What the hell did you try to do?” He bashes Logan’s head against the floor boards. When Storm and Barton move to interfere he snarls at them, “Get the fuck away, you know he can take it.” And he can and that drives Tony all the more crazy. He pulls back and smashes a fist into his jaw and feels his own knuckles collapse and crack against the adamantium skeleton. He hisses and says, “What the hell, did you just pull him inside to try and fuck my husband, you god damned dog, you fucking aren’t even a dog, piece of sh-.”

All the while Wolverine lies there and takes it, allows Tony to batter him and it never occurs to Tony to stop and think until he hears a weak groan from behind him and, turning, sees Steve leaning on a burnt elbow and staring at him.

“No, Tony, he didn’t,” he whispers and Tony recognizes the pain in Steve’s eyes. He tumbles away from Logan and puts a hand up to his face, cupping his mouth. 

Shit.

“Steve,” Tony says.

Reaching out, Steve clasps his hand and brings it to his soot stained face. “He only wanted to say, to say that he can see it. Knows how much you love me.”

He has Steve in his arms, then crushing him to his chest, letting the arc reactor be situated close to Steve’s face. In the early days of their relationship, Steve would huddle close to it, after a particularly difficult fight, or even a nightmare. It was more than his night light, it symbolized security for him. 

“I thought, damn, I thought I lost you,” Tony says and kisses the crown of Steve’s head. He ignores the others crowded around them, but understands they hang close because they too need the comfort in some undefinable, unspoken way.

“Fine, be healed in a day or so,” Steve says but his voice is weak.

“You could never beat me, kiddo,” Logan quips but his eyes look on Steve with fondness. It hurts Tony, but not in the way he thinks it should. It hurts him in a strange kind of sympathy. Losing Steve would kill him, and he can comprehend how it must feel to Logan.

Tony shifts away from Steve and says, “JARVIS, give me a run down?” He aims his phone at Steve.

Before JARVIS answers, Steve clamps his hand over the phone and blocks it. “We don’t have time. I have burns, Tony.” Steve sits up and digs a bit at his scalp, chips of dried blood fall off. “And probably a concussion. It’ll heal. We need to-.” He looks around and turns back to Tony. “Where’s Peter?”

Tony swallows and shakes his head.

Steve closes his eyes and, with his hand to his forehead, remains silent for long minutes. No one breathes a word until Steve murmurs, “He was just a kid.”

“He was probably as old as you were when you went into the army,” Logan says.

“He was just a kid,” Steve reiterates as if the fact Logan brings it up means nothing at all. “Where is he, we have to bury him.”

“Next door,” Tony whispers and can’t meet their eyes. The guilt bubbles up and he isn’t sure where it came from, just that it is. “We can do it, later. We need to get you healthy and healed; otherwise the Ornari shitheads are not going to believe you’re Steve Rogers.”

“I’ll be nearly one hundred percent by tomorrow afternoon, probably,” Steve says, but judging by the sluggish movements, Tony thinks it might be longer than that. 

In some convoluted part of his brain, Tony thinks maybe this is a sign. Maybe they should wait it out. Maybe Thor and Asgard are close and about to come knocking on their door to kick alien butt again. Rationally, he knows he’s grasping for straws, but he doesn’t want to lose his life with Steve. He squeezes Steve’s uninjured shoulder and says, “We have to take care of you first and the-.”

A howl, like the sound of a locomotive, roars through the air waves. It stops and then like a sonic boom blasts at them again. 

“Shit, Ornari buggers,” Barton says and races to the window. “On the horizon toward the river. We have to get out of here. They’re coming in because of the explosion.”

“We can’t let them see us, yet,” Steve agrees and tries to stand up. His feet barely hold him; he weaves on his legs as he moves. The pain etches over his face. 

“We need to hide, fast,” Tony says.

“The basement?” Storm suggests.

“No basements, this is swamp area,” Tony says. “But there is one place out in the garden district. We have to get to the bikes.”

“Can we do it? How far out are they?” Logan asks.

The sound bursts continue in staccato beats. Barton leans toward the window frame and replies, “We got maybe ten minutes to clear out. We might be able to hedge our bets a little but I’m not sure.”

“Let’s get out,” Tony says as both he and Logan join together to support Steve. 

“What about Peter?” Steve says.

“No time, Cap,” Tony answers and he hates to think it but he has to worry about the living not the dead. He struggles a bit, but Steve eventually accepts the logic of what Tony says. They move out through the back, beckoned by Storm to follow her. It takes them too long to get to the bikes because they have to duck and cover as well as drag Steve. He’s fading fast; his body wants to heal and so is shutting down in some ways. “A little more, Steve, come on.”

Logan looks at Tony and silently Tony nods. Sweeping an arm under Steve’s legs, he picks him up and carries him. Tony leads them to the bikes and Steve doesn’t even protest. It is a testament to how injured he actually is. Logan helps Tony get him on the bike, but it is Tony who gets on to drive the thing. He places their single helmet on Steve’s head, but Barton tosses him Peter’s. He frowns but takes it and straps it on.

Turning back, he sees the skies have turned the ugly pitch black as the Ornari buggers descend from whatever hell they came from. It looks like a plague, it looks like the locusts from damnation. 

“Let’s go,” Storm yells and she jumps onto the bike with Logan. 

Tony takes the lead since he knows the way, or at least he hopes he remembers the way. He swerves into a turn and Logan follows him with Barton in the rear. Over the comm he hears Barton tick off how close the buggers are. Too damned close is all Tony really needs to know. 

As he follows the route he hopes he knows, Tony’s hand clutched on the handle bars aches, and he knows it might be broken from punching Logan in the face. He disregards it because there are more important things to worry about like the encroaching horde of alien buggers coming after them. 

The wind picks up velocity and rages about them as if a hurricane just blew into the coast. They’re closing and Tony keeps his sights set straight ahead. He concentrates on the road ahead, thinking only of the pathway. JARVIS ticks off the miles, but he can’t help with the roads and how clear they might be. The flooding devastated most of New Orleans, trying to avoid the rubble and debris is like an obstacle course. 

“Faster,” Barton screams over the link.

He hears it, the screeching increases as the wind whips at them, ripping at clothes like thorns and daggers. The buggers descend upon them like a million insect to chew at their flesh. The buggers are both organic and not, both living and machine – part of the alien horde as well as manufactured by from their technology. They are like demented locusts.

Tiny prickers crawl up under his face shield and flay at his face, shred his clothes as he and the team race toward the garden district. Steve latches onto him, a muffled cry barely heard over the link. He can only imagine how it must feel on the bared, wounded skin of Steve’s shoulder and arm. He wishes he could offer Steve his shield which is strapped onto the front of the bike, but he has to concentrate and cannot stop. The sound changes as the Ornari buggers surround them as they swarm closer. It transforms into a high pitched shriek. It looks and feels like insects attacking them, like barbs embedded into their skin. The air is thick with the Ornari locusts – or whatever the hell it is. It looks like they are in the middle of a tornado. This is their frontal attack, this is what Earth couldn’t withstand, the Ornari as their most primitive form devouring animal and plant alike to leave a barren Earth.

The world turns black with them and Tony’s sure he’s not going to make it until JARVIS chimes in, “The cemetery turn off is to the right, sir.”

Tony veers toward it and screams into the comm. “Turn right, turn right.”

He follows JARVIS’ instructions as they go forward and scans the area for the largest crypt. Skidding the bike to a stop, Tony jumps off of it and pulls Steve along with him. The Ornari fill the air with their tiny bugs picking at their skin, eating at their faces. Logan shouts and slashes the air with his claws; the Ornari dwindle and fall away. 

“Get the crypt open,” Tony says through the storm of Ornari. Steve pushes him aside and with the help of Logan they’re able to lift the stone and pull it back. All of them cram inside of the family crypt before Logan positions the stone back in place. 

“Shit, can’t see a thing,” Barton says.

“Can we breathe in here?” Storm asks. 

“Don’t know,” Tony answers. “Hopefully we won’t have to stay in here very long.” He gathers Steve against his chest as he crouches to the side of the stone wall. Steve shudders but doesn’t say a word. The exertion of moving the stone and being injured took too much out of him and Tony runs fingers through his hair trying to offer some comfort. Steve curves his arm up to touch Tony’s face but doesn’t say a word.

At some point, Barton pulls out a flashlight and switches it on. “I see dead people.”

“That never gets old,” Logan snaps and leans with his ass against the stone tablet in the center of the crypt which has a decomposing corpse on it. He lights the cigar and Barton bats it out.

“Limited oxygen some of us need it to breathe,” Barton says.

Logan gives a flick of his eyebrows and says, “How long we staying in here?”

“Are the Ornari still out there?” Storm asks, she’s crowded into the back where the pile of older skeletons and decaying bodies lie. 

Tony twists his mouth in both disgust and sympathy. He knows that the crypts in New Orleans were used as one of the main methods of burial. Being built on a delta, the soil or what there was of it didn’t really lend itself for ground burial, so early on crypts were used. The body would be placed in one of these crypts and decompose, when the next family member died, the last one would be pushed to the back and the new body placed in on the slab. It kind of freaks Tony out, but it is still a good place to hide.

“Little bit longer,” Logan says. He turns and looks down at Tony. “Where we going next? He needs time to heal up.”

“I spotted a guard house when we rode in, we can make for that and bed down. Storm and I can look for some food,” Barton says, arms crossed over his chest.

“Sounds good,” Tony says and whispers to Steve. “That good for you?”

“Anything’s better than the smell in here.” 

Tony starts a bit because he hadn’t really expected an answer from Steve. “You okay?”

“Just a little nauseous with the stench.”

The smell isn’t of death but of mold and mildew and rotten weeds and undergrowth. The cemetery hadn’t been maintained and the crypts are crumbling disasters. Tony rubs Steve’s hair and glances up at Logan. There’s a certain kindness in his eyes that Tony never expected to see directed toward him. Maybe the rumors of a tender soul underneath all that hair were true. 

“Okay, let’s move out,” Logan states after another ten minutes pass in silence. Logan braces himself against the stone with Barton to help. They give it a shove, and because it has been loosened they are able to push it away. It falls flat into the mud. The air is crisp and has an ozone smell to it, so the Ornari aren’t far. In one group with Logan carrying Steve, they cross over the cemetery to the small guard house. Only a jiggling with an arrowhead and Barton is able to open the lock and they all slip inside. 

The shack is barely even that and it looks like it took significant water damage in the flood. The smell of mold isn’t much better in the one room house with its black mold creeping up the walls. The floor decays and rots beneath their feet. The only place for Logan to set Steve is on the desk since there is no other remaining furniture. 

“Storm and I will go out and scout, see if we can get anything to eat,” Barton says. They leave without further word.

Tony nods but isn’t attending to Barton anymore. Steve groans and curls on to the flat surface of the desk. His skin peels and blisters and bleeds droplets across it. Tony looks around and sees the door off its hinges to the bathroom. He’s sure there’s no running water, but he has to ask, “Can you see if there’s any water for him?”

Logan cocks an eyebrow. “In there?” He shakes his head. “I’ll get the canteen from the bike.”

“Too much activity will attract their buggers back.” Tony pets Steve’s head as he speaks.

“Don’t worry,” Logan says and as he steps out of the guard house, Tony hears the distinct sound of his claws emerging. 

He doesn’t breathe for several seconds, waiting to hear a confrontation. The Ornari buggers are the swarms that first attacked Earth. They burn and blacken the ground and everything in its path. 

The sounds of the empty city keep him on edge but then the soft snore of the man next to him brings him back to the present. He looks at Steve and smiles. Even though his skin is ravaged and he’s a mess, Tony will always love him. It hurts to think the last moments he’s sharing with Steve are like this, painful and filled with fear. Leaning down, he presses his lips to Steve’s temple and whispers, “Sleep, sleep.”

  
When he wakes, Steve stays frozen on the bed. He looks around but doesn’t actually move at all. The room has a single bed in it, a small table next to the bed with a pitcher and wash basin. To the far left is a window and the curtain flutters in the breeze. He frowns and closes his eyes. This isn’t happening. He runs a hand down his front and notes he does not have on a t-shirt. 

At least that was different than before when he woke up in a strange recovery room in New York all those years ago.. He opens his eyes and looks at the door across from the bed. The paint peals and chips from it, the hinges rust. He peers to the side and sees there’s a little figurine of a clown and a dog on the side table next to the bed. There’s no radio playing in the background, no game to give anything away. But nothing is right.

The last thing he remembers he was in a moldy shack with Tony stroking his hair until he fell asleep. He’d been burned. He creeps his hand up to the side of his chest and arm. The skin feels tender and sensitive but not burnt; it’s healed. Whenever it happened, it wasn’t today. He has to ask Tony, and then it smacks him, hits him straight to the chest.

Where is Tony?

He bolts upright and scans the room for any sign of his husband but finds nothing. Near the small table by the bed are his boots. He grimaces; at least someone didn’t put his boots on this time. Shaking his head, he reaches to haul them over and only winces once as the newly-healed and tender flesh moves against his muscles and bones. 

He places his foot inside and laces it up, giving it a double knot, then turns to the other one. As he finishes, the door opens and he jumps a bit as a small old woman with a bent back shuffles into the room. 

“See you’re awake, finally.” She has wiry hair and beads wound through it that glitter and sparkle in the daylight. She wears a sequined dress with strings of beads hanging to her waist. For a moment, he considers whether or not he’s gone completely mad.

“Excuse me?” He can’t think of anything else to say – she doesn’t exist, he figures. She must be a figment of his imagination, he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s already connected to the God Machine, maybe this is what it feels like.

“Eggs, I got some old chickens still laying. But don’t know how long that’ll last,” she chuckles. “But I made you some.” She places the tray on the side table while pushing the little statue out of the way. “Don’t got no coffee, no such thing makes its way to these parts no more.”

“Hmm, thank you?” he says and stares at the scrambled eggs. He doesn’t lift the fork. 

“Go on now, eat,” she says and watches him. 

He hesitates before he picks up the fork. He doesn’t dig in right away, instead he asks, “Who. Who are you?”

“Melinda, but you can call me Lindy, everybody does, or did,” she laughs and shows how many teeth she’s missing – quite a few. “Well, before the whole world went to hell that is.”

“To hell,” he mimics. 

“Eat, gotta gain your strength back,” she smiles and pats his hand. 

He looks at her gnarled fingers, her curved back, and he shakes his head. “Who are you?”

“Don’t listen to her, she’ll pretend she’s a nice little old lady and then steal all your belongings in a crooked game of blackjack,” Tony says and Steve whips around to see him standing in the doorway.

“Tony,” he says. “What?”

“Settle down, Gramps.” Tony walks into the room and kisses Steve on the cheek. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Boys,” Lindy says and grins with her toothless mouth. “Sweet boys, I miss my boys. I dearly miss my boys.” She toddles out of the room and Steve furrows his brow.

“What, Tony, what is going on?”

Tony chuckles, sits next to Steve on the bed, and takes the fork from his hand. He scoops up some of the eggs and lifts it to Steve’s mouth. “Eat, we don’t have much time.”

Steve opens his mouth. The eggs taste divine and he smiles but says, “Now tell me?”

Tony continues his task of feeding Steve as he explains, “Barton and Storm tried to kill her chickens. She came out with a rifle and nearly blew their heads off.” 

“Okay,” Steve says and takes the fork from Tony and finishes off the plate. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “So, you made friends?”

“After a fashion, Barton sweet talked her and ended up getting her to agree to allow us to bed down here at her place.” 

“She lives here still?” Steve says.

“Her and a few others, they make do. The place has some unique features that helps it out. An old hand pump to a still-working well, an old wood burning stove, and an outhouse, believe it or not.” Tony offers him the glass of water. “It’s fresh from the well.”

He drinks his fill and hands the glass back. “How’d Barton sweet talk her?”

“Seems she used to run a brothel in the day, a brothel of the gay variety.” 

Steve holds up both hands and says, “Okay, that’s enough, think I’ve heard enough.” 

Tony slaps his knee and says, “Fuck a duck, you are so old fashioned. For God’s sake you are ridiculous.” He leans closer to Steve, bringing up his hand to cup Steve’s jaw. A gentle kiss to the lips and Tony says, “God damn it to hell, you scared the shit out of me when the marauders blew that building.”

Steve remains silent but threads his hand over Tony’s to hold it against his face. “How much time do we-.”

The door creaks open and Clint stands there. “No time lovebirds. We got activity at the river. The Ornari are coming ashore.”

Tony turns around to face him and asks, “We know it is actually Ornari and not their buggers?”

Clint taps his cheek, just below his eye. “I see all, and know all.”

“Okay Carnac,” Tony replies.

“Who?” Clint frowns.

Tony rolls his eyes and says, “Either they’re too young or too old. No one appreciates Johnny Carson anymore.” He shrugs.

Clint tosses a bundle at Steve and he catches it mid-air. “Get dressed, Captain.” He leaves, closing the door behind him.

Steve stares at the half-eaten eggs, the glass of water, and the little figurine on the table. He steels himself and stands to clean up. Pouring some of the water from the pitcher into the bowl, he finds a wash cloth close to the bowl and dunks it.

“This is it,” Tony says, his voice small and airy.

Steve wipes away the grime from the marauder’s attack, the dirt, the soot, and the blood stains. He places the cloth in the water and watches the colors swirl and mix from blacks to reds to finally mud, like the earth after a spring rain. He meets Tony’s gaze and says, “Yes.”

Tony stands and reaches for Steve’s hand. They hold onto one another like that, just hand in hand. Tony whispers, “You’ve always been the best part of me, even when I didn’t know it.”

Steve starts to reply but Tony holds up his finger and says, “Say nothing, I can’t hear it now. I can’t know what I am going to miss, what I am going to lose, because if I know I will never let you go.”

In milliseconds, Steve wraps Tony in his arms and buries his face in his shoulder. “Damn it, I thought I was stronger than this.”

“You are, you are,” Tony murmurs in a hush into Steve’s shoulder. “You’re stronger than all of us. I know why you’re the super soldier; I know why Howard raved about you. I know because you are a good man.”

“Tony-.”

Tony quiets him with a kiss, then separates from him and says, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Steve says and there’s the slightest edge of sorrow, and pain mixed with the words.

They hold onto one another for what seems like forever, but what feels only like a second until there’s a light tapping on the door.

“Coming,” Tony says and swallows. “We’re coming.”

They stand apart, and then Steve nods, straightens his shoulders, and remembers who he is – not only Captain America, but Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn who never knew when to give up.

  
Storm provides the cover as they venture back into the French Quarter. The fog rolls in thick clouds. Walking down the iconic Bourbon Street, Steve only sees the last vestiges of what he thinks might be considered its greatness and its decadence. The face of the street through the fog reminds him of the shattered skulls and bones and bodies he saw during the war. It all breaks down and breaks apart. He knows this; this is part of the human condition. It doesn’t get any easier. Tony leads the way, he’s in charge, because he’s supposed to be the traitor of the bunch. Before they enter the Jackson Square area, he turns around and says, “This is it.”

Clint and Storm nod. Steve looks down at his hand still holding Tony’s, but they disentangle and each of them twists off their wedding rings. He hands his to Clint, as does Tony. “Save that for me.”

Clint doesn’t say anything as Tony offers him his ring as well. Logan leans down and whispers something into Storm’s ear, she smiles in a tender, almost lost way. They part and step to the street. Before Steve is able to really say goodbye the fog encompasses them and they are gone. 

“Let’s go,” Logan says and he starts down the sidewalk to Jackson Square. Steve finds Tony’s face again, one last touch to his hand and they part again. He doesn’t share a word, but knows everything and nothing has already been spoken.

They follow Logan.

The cathedral they pass, St Louis, is battered from storms and the invasion. The steeple has caved in, and the side of it collapsed a while ago. The gardens are overrun and spotty at best, since the Ornari have a tendency to burn everything green and growing. Continuing their twisted pilgrimage, they pass Muriel’s restaurant and the chalk board is still hanging in the window with prices for Po’boys and jambalaya. Soon they reach the water and Steve sees it immediately. He’s unsure if Tony and Logan spot it, but the Ornari await them at the pier.

Climbing up to the cracked pier, half underwater, they stride up to the figure. It is some kind of projection growing up from the water and it looks like Natasha. The water laps at his ankles. The figure turns to them and, for a second, glitches and then reappears.

“Captain America, Tony Stark, and the Wolverine.”

“Why am I not Iron Man?” Tony mutters. “The suit and I are one.”

Logan growls at bit at Tony, but is ignored by the projection. 

“It has been interesting to watch the remnants of your civilization vilify you Tony Stark,” the Natasha doppelganger says.

“Really? I thought they were busy vilifying you,” Tony replies. Steve cringes, the man can never back down from a challenge, but then again neither can Steve.

“And why did you request this meeting? Our human drone has informed us of your need to meet with us,” the figure says.

“We’d like you to consider a trade,” Tony states. “We’re willing to give you the perfect Seed.” His voice chokes but he forces through it. Steve sees the slight tremor in his hand when he points to him. “For an exchange.”

“An exchange?”

“Technology, we want what you’ve got, or at least, I want what you’ve got,” Tony states. “If you know anything about us, about me, then you know I like toys. I like to tinker, I like technology. I want to know what you’ve got and how it works.”

“For the perfect Seed?”

“Yeah, the Seed,” Tony says and he’s trying to sound casual about it, but Steve doesn’t think he pulls it off at all. He hardens his face and says, “I want a look inside so when you bastards are gone I can make sure you never come back.”

“You come willingly with the traitor?” the Ornari projection asks. “Why?”

“If you know anything about me, then you know me as Captain America. I come willingly for the sake of humanity,” Steve states but keeps his voice even and calm.

“And what about the mutant, the poisoned one?” The figure of Natasha steps over to Logan and sizes him up. 

“He comes as my protection,” Tony says.

The Natasha figure peers over her shoulder at Tony and a knowing smile curves her lips. It is not beautiful, but cruel and vicious – Black Widow in all of her glory. “You are a very interesting man to think the poisoned one will save you.”

“Don’t question the Tin Man,” Logan snaps.

“We could just take the Seed now, kill you and be done with it.”

Steve shakes his head. It isn’t that easy. Trying to integrate any human into the God Machine isn’t like snapping together Lincoln logs. The God Machine burns through humans because of their physical weaknesses, their inability to heal fast enough. Only Steve or Logan would be the perfect Seed, but because of the Adamantium Logan isn’t a viable candidate. The one key thing that is key to the entire plan is that the Seed must go willingly. Tony pieced together this part of the information early on from his analyses of their systems. If the Seed rebels in anyway, the God Machine will devour it.

“You won’t do that, because then I won’t go willingly.” Forcing their hand early on is a risk Tony and Steve knew they might have to take.

The Ornari projection smiles again and a little laugh sounds. Steve looks to the waters, sees the ship hanging over what is left of the Gulf since most of it has been burned away with the rest of life on Earth. 

“Come then,” the Ornari projection drifts over the water toward the silver dome that looks like it might be a metallic beehive. 

Steve hesitates only for a moment, because while the waters aren’t deep at the river’s end anymore, he doesn’t want to swim it. 

“Come,” the projection says again and continues forward.

Steve glances once at Tony and nods, and then moves toward the ship. His feet hit a hard surface and he looks down, realizes the water shifts and transforms into a kind of bridge. The waters of the ocean have been contaminated by the Ornari horde. The seas and oceans on the Earth are no longer just water, they are Ornari. The Earth has little time left, they have little time left. The world is poisoned.

Walking toward the ship he notes how it pulses once and the projection dissipates as the hive closest to them changes and turns into a ramp. He wonders if they’ll see Natasha, if she’s on this ship or the one hanging over New York City. It’s painful to think that he won’t see her, he would have liked to say good-bye, she’d always been a good friend. 

The bridge beneath their feet modifies until it takes on more of the metallic sheen of the ship. The rest of the distance, Steve inhales in slow easy breaths, trying to remember how it feels to fill his lungs with the warm humid air of the Earth. He regrets not wanting to feel the water again on his feet, because touching it would have reminded him of life and love and what it means to weep. A breeze blows in waves against the roll and turn of the river as it mixes with the sea’s waters – or what is left of the sea. 

This is Earth, he thinks, this is home. 

When he steps on the ramp, he is not prepared. He knows this down to the hollow of his bones, but there’s nothing for it now. He has to go through with it. It doesn’t feel like walking into the laboratory with all of those scientists and technicians, with Tony’s father and Dr. Erskine waiting for him – ready to inject him with an untried version of the serum. Then he had hope mixed with fear, now he only knows the terror. He digs deep to find the hope, this is the last hope for the Earth, for all of humanity. There is no other choice. 

He can find nothing. 

Turning, he looks to Tony and then feels it. The warmth spread from the center of his chest as he realizes everything he does will save Tony. Tony will be fine, Tony will survive. 

Once inside the ship, they are escorted through the barren corridors that are sculpted like the modern art forms of metal Steve saw at the museums. It reminds him of chrome and pipes, except it looks like pipes within pipes. The escort really isn’t a figure or form or anything really – it is simply that there is no other way to go – no divergence or other turn. They follow the hallways, the designated path way until they stop at a large screen looking forward to the vast expanse of the Gulf. 

The Natasha projection appears again. 

“Disengage,” the Ornari says and the ship rocks then part of the ship ejects off.

It flies them through the air at exhilarating speeds, but they can feel nothing, only see it as they pass over the destroyed lands of the southern United States. Where there should be green only scorched holes and pitted land remains. It looks like strip mining, only worse.

“Christ,” Logan whispers.

“You’ll leave after you have the Seed?” Tony says.

“We could have taken the Seed from you, but we have not,” the Ornari projection says. “We show you all you desire, Tony Stark.”

Logan tenses besides him but the projection only bows her head. “No need for dramatics, Wolverine. The Seed and Tony Stark are safe.”

“Safe until you hook him up to your fucking machine,” Logan growls back.

The look on the projection’s face chills Steve to the bone. She looks directly at Steve. “The Seed will be none of your concern.”

The fact the she doesn’t deny that Steve will not be safe doesn’t escape him. He presses his lips together and concentrates on the obliterated landscape below them. The waters along the eastern seaboard churn and gurgle, stained with the Ornari invasion. It is a surprise they have any fresh water at all to drink.

Before he realizes it, he spots the base of the Statue of Liberty. Liberty herself is long since gone; just the ends of her robe and feet remain. Over the island of Manhattan hangs the large mother ship of the Ornari. From the distance they are at, Steve sees the decimated cityscape. There aren’t many buildings or skyscrapers left. It looks like he’s watching a movie, but he notices certain parts of the city, recognizes a spire here or a base of a building there. He sees only the hole where the Avengers’ Tower once rose from the cradle of the city. It had been a target early on in the fight. 

The small transport ship they are on curves toward the base of the main ship, but before it enters it, long tendrils reach out from the underbelly of the metallic hive and caress the outside of the transport. The whole small ship seems to vibrate with the touch as it is purring in response. Something about it sends shivers up Steve’s spine. It reminds him of a mother welcoming her young home again, but in some sickly parody.

As the tendrils pull them toward the belly of the beast, the sun is blocked out and shadows are thrown over the screen. Steve hasn’t looked at Tony for a full ten minutes; something about the idea of looking at him stills his heart, something about knowing that Tony will see what happens next freezes him like the ice that once engulfed him. 

But he turns then and glances Tony’s way. Tony isn’t watching how the mother ship seems to consume the daughter ship, how it devours it into the skin and outer shell. Instead, Tony studies him as if he’s memorizing every detail of him. He wants to say something, he wants to grab Tony and crush him close to his chest, but at the same time, he wants Tony to run and get away. Far, far away. They don’t know if this will work, they have no idea if any of it will work or if they are just damned desperate to try an act of desperation. It is just that—an act of desperation. 

He doesn’t say anything to Tony, but looks back at Logan and says, “Guard him.” The words are authoritative and firm. He’s Captain America in this moment and his greatest concern is Tony’s vulnerability.

Logan doesn’t balk at it at all. “Whatever you say, Captain.” 

Steve settles a degree and says, “Thank you.”

He turns back to the screen before either of them can say anything, before he can break down and shatter in front of them and the Ornari. The transport ship they are on melts (there is no other word for it) into the mother ship so that it is indistinguishable. The Natasha projection disappears again and the wall next to Steve moves. It looks like it might actually be liquid, as it drips down and forms a figure. It is a crude representation of the human form, but it speaks.

“Tony Stark, Seed, and Guard, please follow me.” 

Steve cringes at the name, but this is his role and he accepts it. They fall in, with Steve in the middle. He would rather have Tony in the middle with Logan as his Guard, but they both know that at this juncture that isn’t going to happen. Shoulder to shoulder with Logan he feels the tension radiate off of him. His hands are in fists and, Steve thinks, only the fact that they have a plan to reset the timeline stops Logan from going into a fighting fugue. 

As they walk down the corridors, the Ornari figure in front of them dissolves into the floor as they turn and another one forms from the walls to lead them toward the center of the ship. Every step brings them closer to their goal; every step brings him closer to the God Machine. A slight stench fills the air that harkens to burnt motor oil. It turns his stomach, and he blanches at it.

“You are curious creatures,” the thing in front of them says. 

While he’d like to fill the silence with something, hearing this obscene thing leading him to his death isn’t one of them. 

“You live as solitary creatures yet partake in society. You care for your wounded and sick but maim and kill one another. Curious and lovely all the same,” the Ornari guide comments. The words ooze in echoes as the pores drip and slither.

Steve doesn’t feel compelled to reply and neither do Logan or Tony. Tony strides next to him, just millimeters away, but he might as well be kilometers – hell, he might as well be in the next universe over. 

“Yeah, well we strive to be complicated so assholes like you can’t figure us out,” Tony says.

Their Ornari host turns around – the figure doesn’t actually have a face, more like a nub of a head – and stretches forward much like Steve’s seen Richards do. “How can we not have figured you out, Tony Stark? We are your conquers.”

“Many have claimed that, none have lived to keep the title,” Tony replies and to his credit stands his ground as the stretched neck of the thing curls around his head and seems to study him with its eyeless nub.

“We have been to many Earths, you are always most difficult Tony Stark.”

He cocks his eyebrows and says, “Well, I’m glad I’m consistent.”

The thing contracts and shrivels into the floor until it re-appears down the corridor again. It waits for them to continue forward. They really don’t have much of a choice since the passageway disappears like a collapsing sinkhole in sand. 

Ushered into a small space that is no larger than an elevator, the Ornari stands aside and announces, “Please do not be alarmed. You are going to the Central Core.”

Central Core. 

The God Machine.

Before Steve can comment, the whole of the ‘elevator’ collapses in on them covering him with the metallic ooze that steals the breath from his lungs. He struggles against it, but it flings him through and into something that he can only describe as a pressurized tube. But it isn’t that, not at all, because he can poke his fingers out through the substance covering him. It feels like he’s displaced, like he’s in water and bobbing on the top and underneath it all at the same time. It squeezes his ribcage and confines him while also expanding his lungs and he cannot stop it, and he realizes there’s no air in his stretched lungs and he’s suffocating. 

Then as suddenly and abruptly as it started it ends. He’s standing near the heart of the God Machine. He hasn’t enough words to express it, he cannot even react and scan the room for possible threats and information because before him is the God Machine itself.

Long tendrils hang from above, the ceiling out of sight. The tendrils look like black cables that constantly move and grope around the room; the main clump of them throbs like beating arteries. The same burnt oil smell permeates this place, but it is tinged with something else, something wicked, something like decay. This is where sentience begins for the Ornari. 

He gulps back his surprise when he realizes before him in the center of the machine is Natasha. She’s hooked up to it. She’s part of it, or what is left of her. 

“Damn it,” Tony gasps and Steve’s heart skips a beat when he realizes Tony is with him and not Logan. Where the hell is Logan?

The projection of Natasha appears again before them, but Steve cannot take his eyes off of the remains of his friend hooked up to the tendrils. There is little left of her, her skin dissolves away and then muscles beneath it wither and shred. He only recognizes her because of the flame of her red hair and her beautiful, wide lips. 

The projection before him mimics her smile and says, “Your spy was a special delight to us.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tony says and launches himself at the projection but Steve catches him before the tendrils surrounding them in the stark white room can react. 

“The Central Core must be occupied at all times by the Seed. Our last Seed had run its course and we needed another. She was not the perfect volunteer but she provided for us.”

Steve stands still, recalling Clint’s words. Would Natasha be able to hold off the violation of her mind before she was integrated into their God Machine? 

Tony finds his head and says, “She did, did she?”

“Yes,” the figure circles them as the tendrils glide and twist around her in some bizarre ballet. It reminds him of some version of Medusa, yet the snakes are all around and not only as her hair. 

“What’d she tell you, because this is the part where you’re supposed to monologue about your evil plans and how you’re going to defeat all of us,” Tony says and spins around looking at the tendrils hanging down. “You know, we’ve done this before so let’s get on with it.”

“You do not understand, we have defeated you. The perfect Seed is ours.”

Steve knows that Tony’s stalling, trying to find a way out so they can get Logan here or abandon the plan altogether. 

Tony taps his index finger to his mouth and says, “Tell me, why didn’t you just use your own Captain from your own reality?”

“There are many Captains; there is only one true Seed.”

“Interesting, but not enlightening. You want to do better,” Tony asks. “Because I’m a man of knowledge. I like to understand things; I would especially like to understand why I am going to die.”

“If you are a learned man as you purport than you know that each reality is slightly different, there is only one true Seed. This reality holds it. Our calculations and observations are correct. It is this reality.”

“So all the other Captains have a fault which doesn’t fit with your machine there,” Tony points over his shoulder to the Core while looking at Steve. “But you know this reality, Steve is perfect for your machine?”

“Our calculations are sound.”

Steve only shakes his head to indicate he has no idea how to get in or out of the room. As Clint would say, they are S.O.L..

“This preamble is wasting time,” the Ornari figure says. “We are in need of a new Seed. Once we have the Seed we will be finished here.” 

Tony snaps his attention to Steve, they are out of time. 

“Tony, you didn’t show Tony your tech. You promised, and I won’t go into the Core until you show him the tech.” Steve grasps at straws. “That was the deal. You show him your technology, share it with him, I go willingly into the Core.”

“You know your plan to infiltrate and subvert our technology will not work, Tony Stark. Other Tony Starks have tried, none have succeeded. It is far too advanced in bio-organics for you to understand. You cannot connect with the Ornari technology properly.” 

Steve guesses hopes and prays to God, that Natasha gave them the cover story, that she was able to hide their real plan and only have them fear Tony’s raid on their systems. If that is the case, they still have a chance. He has to believe it. Natasha wasn’t the best spy the world ever knew for no reason at all. He has to believe they do not know that Tony already raided their systems for information. 

“You promised,” Steve says. “I won’t go into the machine willingly. If I don’t you know the Core won’t work right. You’ll have come all this way and your Seed will be stained and you won’t be able to use me.” 

Tony nods. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

The twists and coils of the tendrils hanging from the ceiling drip and ooze along the floor. The Natasha projection flickers once and then says, “As you wish.”

There’s a little sound, almost a warning from the Core. Steve turns to it, realizes for the first time that the thing, the corpse sitting in the chair, Natasha, is actually still alive and she’s trying to warn them with a tiny cry. He spins back on his heel and yells, “No!”

Only inches, Tony is only inches away from him but the tendrils are everywhere. Something grabs Steve from behind and drags him away, binds his arms and captures his legs. The tendrils swarm around him like living ropes, securing him. Even with his enhancements, the tensile strength of the tendrils holds him.

“Tony!”

Before him, the tendrils transform into spears and one darts out as Tony races to Steve. 

“Tony,” Steve cries out. “No, don’t. Don’t do this.” 

But the projection has disappeared and another tendril reshapes into something like an interfacing probe. One tendril whips around Tony’s waist capturing him; the probe spears Tony through the base of the skull to form the connection to the Ornari. Tony mouths words but no sound comes out. Steve’s heart is sinking, falling away as he watches Tony. The room shudders and it pulses with electrical charges and blue lightning flashes through the coil connected to Tony and into his brain.

Tony screams and quakes under the assault.

“Stop, God damn it, you’re killing him,” Steve yells. 

The pulsations of energy cease and Tony’s arched back droops and the tension of his muscles fade. He doesn’t focus on Steve; he looks at nothing with his dead eyes.

“You bastards, you knew it would kill him. You knew a probe like that would kill him. You son of a bitch. We asked for a fair exchange. You killed him and I will give you nothing. Nothing, bastards.” Steve rips and writhes against his bindings.

“We told you it was far too advanced for your meager minds.”

He knows this is just an excuse for murdering Tony. As Tony’s body collapses onto the floor, Steve slumps in his restraints Tony’s blood flows across the floor from the hole in his skull. His lifeless eyes stare out to the void of the ceiling, not even looking at Steve.

He has to hold his own, Tony had told him, had warned him they couldn’t trust the Ornari. The Ornari might deal with them, but they would never come through with the deal. Tony had warned him, that the main goal was to get Logan into the Core, to the God Machine. He has to play his part now, as Tony had played his own.

He has only one play. Gagging with muffled sobs, he chokes out. “I won’t go willingly. Not now, not ever. I won’t do it.”

One of the tendrils poking at his dead love, his dead husband, slinks upward and seems to peer at him without eyes, without face. The sound of the voice must only be in his head. “We did as you asked.” It sounds innocent, almost child-like.

“You killed him.”

A tendril detaches itself from the ceiling, reforms and turns into a figure resembling Tony. Steve hitches a breath and turns way from the silver black form. 

“He could not handle it. The interface would not work, we explained that. It does not work with such simple beings. Outside of the Core, it always kills. Within the Core, it kills eventually, as it does all who are not the perfect Seed,” the thing says, but Steve keeps his face averted and hates that it uses Tony’s voice now. “It will only work completely for the perfect Seed.”

“You knew it would kill him. He wasn’t supposed to be hooked up to your damned machine. You were supposed to share information with him.”

“We understood it would not be compatible outside of the Core, only the Core has the ability to fully assimilate organic beings to use for the sentience of our species.” 

“You fuckers,” Steve cries out, yanking against his bonds. “You did this on purpose. You did it. I won’t go. Your perfect Seed is damaged now. It won’t work.” He knows he’s playing a part, a role, but it feels real – is real. But he’s has to play it, force their hand to get Logan into the Core.

“But we did as you asked. You must.”

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” Steve screams at Tony’s doppelganger through the tears. He knows he has to do it, but the plan won’t work without Logan. He has to keep to the plan, he has to strategize and play poker with this damned thing, the thing that steals Tony’s face.

The doppelganger with the blank eyes dissipates into the twist of oscillating cables and tendrils. “We are the earliest of creation, we are primordia, we are before.”

The words confuse Steve, he couldn’t care about what the Ornari think they are or could be. This thing before him isn’t life, isn’t alive without his help. It needs him to walk willingly into the God Machine and it has erred. All the cards are in his hands now.

As he stares down at his Tony, as the floor molds around his love and slowly and inexplicably begins to absorb him, Steve orders in a low but commanding voice, “Bring me Logan.”

“The Poisoned one will not enter this chamber.”

“He will, if you expect me to get in your fucking machine without a fight.” He tears at the coils wrapped around him.

The tendrils shiver and ooze in long drips to the floor and then contract up again like the coils of a snake. He cannot decide whether or not they remind him more of a living creature or a viscous fluid. Every struggle he attempts against his bonds is in vain. 

“If you speak to the poisoned one and tell him he is not to harm us, he may come to you.” The voice echoes in the room and he sees Natasha at her place in the Core shudder and convulse.

He glances away, not able to focus on the horrible ruin of her. “Do it,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Speak.”

“Logan, come to the Core as planned. Do not touch the Ornari.”

“He will listen?” the Ornari ask.

“He will, he is a soldier first and listens to orders,” Steve replies, he’s fairly certain Logan would be one of the last soldiers he would expect to ever listen to orders.

“It is done.”

The side of the room morphs and the cables unravel to reveal Logan. He stumbles forward and, first seeing Tony, snarls and whips around to find Steve still bound and entangled in the Ornari web. 

“What the fuck,” Logan says.

“Don’t,” Steve says and tries not to think of Tony dead on the floor in front of him, tries not to realize that the primordial substance of the Ornari slowly devours his flesh and his bones as Steve watches. “Just allow this to happen.”

Logan clenches his fists and nods.

The Ornari tendrils roping him to the side of the room’s wall release and Steve falls forward. Logan catches him and holds him away from what is left of Tony. He hitches a breath but fails to muffle his pain. 

Logan holds him, tight and unrelenting. He presses a hand to the back of Steve’s head and kisses his cheek. He whispers in Steve’s ear, “Remember, Steve, for Earth. For the future, for the past.”

He clenches onto Logan as if he might lose all of his resolve by letting go. And he will because Logan is all he has left, there’s nothing else. This is his cup of poison, his final act. He has to accept it and move toward the resolution, if he wants it to end, if he wants to defeat them.

He squeezes his eyes shut so that he doesn’t need to see the last remnants of Tony still bubbling on the floor with the tendrils and coils embedded in what is left like he is a rotting corpse. Logan pries Steve’s arms from around his neck and shoves him away.

“I’m ready. I’ll be the Seed.”

The tendrils slithering along the walls wind into a figure, it is neither human or animal, just is. “Willingly?”

“Yes, willingly. You will leave Earth?”

“Willingly,” The voice ripples with anticipation, heaving in pants as if it finds the thought of integrating Steve sensual.

The tendrils forming the mass he speaks to quiver in anticipation and Steve hitches a breath, trying not to grab the thing, trying quell his anger and his revulsion. He has to accept this, he has to become the Seed, completely, totally so that when Logan stabs him, the download will transfer to the God Machine itself. He steps over to the Core and stares at the machine. It is really a knot of the tendrils leaking and dripping, merging into Natasha. 

“How long? How long has she been in there?” He says it with as shaky a voice as he can manage. It isn’t hard to pull it off since he’s frightened down to his bones. His heart rams in his chest and throbs in his ears. “How long does it take for that to happen?”

“Do not be concerned, as the perfect Seed; this shall not be your fate.” 

“I want to know,” Steve demands and Logan hisses.

“Two of your days,” the Ornari answer. 

“Only two days?” It falls in to place then. Natasha’s information on the Ornari computer systems is still viable. While she knew they would be looking to infiltrate the God Machine, she’d never been told how as a precaution. The plan is set. 

Of course, he could be fooling himself. He peers over his shoulder and sees the spot where Tony died. There’s only a blackened stain on the floor now, the last vestiges of life. Even the arc reactor has disappeared. 

“I’m ready then,” Steve says and, with those words, the God Machine disengages from the dried husk of Natasha. The spindles integrated into her body slip free and she descends into a heap of bones and papery flesh. The tendrils eagerly ingest her. 

Steve shudders at the sight, but steps forward, nods to Logan, and prepares himself.

“Please, Seed, you may sit. This is a seat of honor, of great significance,” the voice says as the whole room trembles. “Your perfection, your physical perfection will power our Central Core for centuries to come. We will care for you and honor you, you will be immortalized.”

Steve inhales deeply and says, “Logan has to be near. I won’t do it without my friend near me when I sit down.”

The tendrils shake. “It is done.”

With one last reassuring glance at Logan, Steve settles into what looks like a pod within the tangles of Ornari branches. The tendrils form a chair-like place for him to sit. It isn’t uncomfortable but odd as he can feel the life strum through the chords beneath him.

For a moment nothing happens. He sits in the chair, not relaxed but waiting. The room is quiet except for the distinct sounds of Logan and Steve breathing. The seat tips backward and his head slips into a waiting headrest of coils. He feels them slither and snake around him, knows a probe will slice into him as it had Tony.

Without ceremony or announcement, it thrusts into him impaling him. He gulps for breath thinking they are not using him as their Seed, but in fact are killing him. Logan lurches forward but tendrils fling out from the walls and whip around Wolverine to imprison him. 

Steve splays his hands out and tendrils spear through his hands, his wrists, his forearms. He lists to the side as the pain shoots through him in ever increasing waves. The tendrils pierce him through in another dozen places on his body. He can feel blood gurgling up into his throat and pooling in his mouth.  
“Seed, you must relax and accept us.”

He shivers as the fear and the pain shred him. He tries to relax. He knows he needs to accept this, become one with them in order for Logan to drive the killing blow home. Steve realizes as he watches the spears merge with his hands, the tendrils dig into his torso weave into and through it, threading into his body as if it is a part of him, he’s becoming part of the machine. His head drops backward, and the tendrils cradle it, reposition it, and like a million tiny fingers invade his brain. It feels like hot pokers, onto his raw nerves. He screams but welcomes it at the same time. This is his deal; this will save the future and the past. 

It becomes dark like shadows passing over the sun. His sight seizes and he groans as the pain heightens and he wills himself to accept it. He must accept the God Machine, he must allow it to consume him. Just as he releases the fear, allows the pain to swallow him he hears a screech. 

The Ornari flash and burn at his retinas. Everything is bleached white for a second and then grays into existence again. He sees the room; he’s part of the machine and feels every living Ornari, the great expanse of their civilization pass through him. He knows every beat and pulse of their organisms, he experiences every moment of joy and grief, every victory in their long journey to find the perfect Seed. They searched for so long, to replace the original Seed. They thrill and celebrate at their victory. 

But it is the shriek, the horror and terror which draws him. He turns to this now, his present and sees Logan cutting himself free. His claws extended, flashing in the brilliant light of the room.

Tendrils lash out at him but cannot come close as the adamantium poisons them and then Steve hears the loud sound like a locomotive, the buzz of the thousand insects. It is the buggers, the swarms coming to defend the Ornari. Logan catapults over to his side even as the God Machine enfolds him in its web. The buggers converge on them. Logan looks Steve in the eye, says something, he isn’t sure what, and drives his claws home into Steve’s chest, into his heart. 

The whole web of the Ornari convulses at once. Like an earthquake, the God Machine judders and revolts against the invasion. The buggers crawl over Logan, eating into his flesh even as it tries to heal itself. He howls as the process repeats and repeats and he digs the claws deeper into Steve. Steve cries out; the slash to his heart is profound and he cannot breathe. He feels the scrape of the claws against his spine, tearing away at his vertebrae. It will be only moments before the nanovirus is unleashed.

He watches the buggers shred Logan again, flaying his skin and flesh. As the Ornari hiss and scream against and through him, Steve surrenders to the pain, to the feeling of utter consumption, of his life draining out and away from him, of a world ravaged and unsalvageable. He’s done his job, offered up what he could to save everyone and everything, and now he surrenders to it.

  
A warm breath brushes over his shoulder and a rough hand glides over his hip from behind. He feels a shuddering pause and then the hand clasps him and strokes his erection. He pumps into the fist encircling him and presses back against the erection filling him. He shudders at the feel of it, at the thickness. It fills him and sends bolts of pleasure through him and up his spine.

The breath comes again and the scruff of a beard excites him and he moans with it. He closes his eyes and feels the man spooning against him as they work the rhythm together. He wants to feel it harder, harsher. He feels like it has been too long, he feels like the touch of another human being is foreign and strange to him, he feels like he’s betrayed something deep inside of himself. 

In a hoarse voice, he rasps, “Harder, please.”

The strokes become more determined, more brutal, but it still isn’t enough so he shifts and with that moves them. He’s on his knees with his face buried in the cushion of their shared pillow, his ass presented with his legs set wide. 

One hand grips his hip, unyielding and marring. He bites back a cry as the thrusts become wild, nearly savage in their purpose. With every movement, he’s jerked a bit up against the short headboard, but he doesn’t care because the feeling is so strong and ruthless, that he can feel it down into his bones. He groans in a long litany of sounds that roar and cry together. The hand on his erection tightens and increases the strokes. He’s barely breathing with the fierceness of the stimulation. He huffs out a breath and then, as his prostate is hit again and again, he arches back into the rhythm, meeting and matching stroke for stroke until the want has coiled deep in his belly and he cannot hold out any longer. He’s screaming with need and desire, until he’s coming all over the hand pumping him to completion. And then he feels it, the hot spill of orgasm within him, filling him, and he’s panting, groaning because just the thought and feel of it filling him makes him hot and heavy with desire. He’s spent, though, tired and worn out. He crumples onto the too-thin mattress.

Arms wrap around him as they settle together and he caresses the muscular arm. He doesn’t have words, he’s not sure what he can say or what he cannot say. He’s always feeling his way around this relationship, not sure if they are supposed to be falling in love or not. Not sure if this is just a for-fun gig or something more serious.

He turns around and leans forward for a kiss. They play tag and nip one another. It is always a play for dominance. Finally, exhaustion wins out; they’ve been at this for hours. He pulls away and says, “What’s next?”

“On the map?”

“Yes, no, I mean,” Steve closes his eyes and opens them. He runs a hand down the weary face before him. “Like should we go back to the US?” 

When he and Logan first collided months ago, it was more about winner take all. Logan constantly baited him, not unlike Tony Stark. Yet, Logan had an attitude that bordered on sublime mixed with blasé. It lured Steve, until he finally fell onto Logan like an avalanche of need. He wanted to hide from the world, and Logan was of the mind to be hidden. They escaped together, they found one another along the way. But now, now he wonders if it isn’t time to re-enter the world, find his place again, shoulder his responsibility again as Captain America.

“Oh, this again.”

“Logan, please don’t,” Steve says and keeps his hand firmly around Logan’s neck to keep him in bed.

“I told you I don’t want to do any super hero crap anymore. The whole mutant fiasco was enough for me,” Logan says but then rolls his eyes. “I know you don’t remember any of it since you were in stasis, but you have to be tired from the war, from fighting aliens just weeks after you woke up. Tell me seeing the world, riding our bikes, isn’t better.”

“It’s good, it’s fine,” Steve says and rolls back on the tiny bed. “Don’t – just forget I said anything.”

Logan leans down and kisses Steve’s forehead. “Sleep kid, you have a lot of catching up to do.”

When he sleeps, he dreams. 

He sees creatures of ink and metal and death. He remembers a swarm of insects plaguing the land and chewing on flesh and the remains of the Earth. He recalls the waters turning to sludge and transforming into muck. He looks down at his bare feet in the lapping waves and sees only skulls at his ankles. 

He wakes up terrified with Logan shushing him and telling him everything will be okay. He’s not so sure. He puts it down to a new way to dream about the hell he went through with Red Skull and the Chitauri all mixed into one. He doesn’t think about it that day and falls into the easy routine of their day. They’ve been traveling for some time, but found their way to Japan in the last month and Logan seemed to remember some of the prime places to settle in. The house they rented is small but comfortable. It took a while for Steve to be comfortable in Japan, but he understands progress and has never been a prejudiced guy.

He’ll probably spend some time down by the docks today to pick up some work; they need the money since their supply is running low. He pages through the newspaper; they get an English version delivered. He flicks the page to straighten it as he sips his coffee. Logan left earlier, though Steve has no idea where he went. He has a tendency to go off wandering. There’s a solitude and unrest in Logan that no amount of partnership and companionship can solve. 

Sitting on the small patio outside the cottage, Steve reads the headlines and frowns. Some vigilante in New York is running around calling himself Spiderman. It’s ridiculous and frightening. How many of these people will crawl out of the woodwork after what happened with the Chitauri? He shakes his head and skims the page. He fingers the pages open and finds the people section. He stops.

_Rumor has it the famous Pepperony might not be. Current insiders say Tony Stark is living alone in Stark Tower in New York after completion of renovations while Pepper Potts has moved to Malibu._

“Huh,” Steve says and looks at the photograph of Tony Stark. 

For a second his eyes focus but then it feels like he’s blinking repeatedly and the scene changes and changes until he’s watching a movie at twice the speed. He sees Tony smiling, and then flying off with the Iron Man armor. He feels Tony’s arm around him, they’re kissing. He watches as Tony dies in a puddle of muck and metal and ink. 

“Kid? Kid?” Logan holds him in his arms. “Christ, what the hell just happened?”

He spilt his coffee all over the front of his plaid shirt. The paper is torn in half and he’s lying on the stone patio. His skin feels clammy but he’s freezing. “I don’t – I don’t know.” He lifts a hand to his face and it trembles. 

“Come on, you haven’t been sleeping well,” Logan says and helps him to his feet. Steve follows Logan not protesting, not sure what just happened. He peers over his shoulder back at the newspaper. He doesn’t say a word. 

Two months later, Logan wants to abandon their little hideaway in Japan to go backpacking in the Himalayas. Steve only frowns and says he’ll think about it. That night Logan attacks him with a round of vicious lovemaking (he only calls it lovemaking in his head because he’s not sure Logan even calls it that). He’s bruised and worn out by the end, but so is Logan. They pant and curl into one another until Steve hears the words he’s been waiting for.

“Love you, love you so damned much,” Logan says and kisses him with a ferociousness Steve cannot handle. 

“Love you, too,” Steve says. It happens again. His eyes go blurry and his mind skitters into memories both real and imagined. He sees Tony beneath him, fisting the sheets and crying out as Steve penetrates him. He bathes in the light of the arc reactor after a harrowing mission that unsettled him. He fingers a ring on his hand because it means they are wed. 

“Steve? Steve?” Logan says, and he’s bent over Steve, hovering over him trying to yank him from the dream or nightmare. “What the hell was that?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face and blinks. “What?”

“Your eyes rolled back in your head and you had a seizure. Is there something wrong with the serum? Did the doctors at that half assed spy organization check it out?” Logan says.

“I don’t know -.” He stops and tries to center himself. “The doctors said I was fine. I don’t know- I keep remembering things.” He sits up. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, not with Logan and not right now. “I think I’ll get a drink of water.”

“Hey, bring me back a beer.” 

They don’t end up leaving Japan because the episodes come more frequently and last longer. The details are greater and Steve starts to put pieces of a life together that he’s never lived. He wonders if he might be going insane. Maybe the serum isn’t supposed to work for so long; maybe being trapped in ice in stasis has driven him mad.

Logan is a bundle of nerves, worried about everything. He’s so out of character at times it is jarring to Steve. He wants to bring Steve to Canada to some special school for the gifted (mutants) because he’s certain someone there has the talent or power to find out what is plaguing Steve.

Steve has other ideas. He finally convinces Logan to leave him for an afternoon. The episodes have become so severe Steve doesn’t leave the house and Logan’s fearful of letting him stay alone. But someone has to run a few odd jobs to get money. Logan is the volunteer for now. He jokes that Steve is only pulling these seizures to get out of doing his part, but Steve reminds him he’s never been one not to do his part.

“I know kid, I know,” Logan says as he shrugs on his leather jacket. “That is what worries me.”

He kisses Steve’s temple and departs with a slight look back over his shoulder. Once Steve’s assured he’s left, he picks up his phone and calls the States. 

He’s lucky to get anyone at this hour. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Steve Rogers.”

“Steve! How are you? Where are you?”

“I’m fine, Bruce,” Steve says and finds he’s genuinely happy to be speaking to someone from the Avengers though it was a short time as a team he still missing it. “I’m in Japan, how are you?”

“Japan, Japan,” Bruce says. “That, that must be strange for you.”

“A little, at first, you know it was strange. But we’ve been here for a while,” Steve says.

“We’ve?”

Steve picks at the blanket over his lap. He’s been unreasonably cold since the attacks lately. “Logan, you know Wolverine?”

“Oh, oh,” Bruce says. “Right, how’s that going?”

“Fine, good,” Steve says. He hesitates before he speaks again but he wants to know and he has no other person to ask so he dives in. “How is everyone?”

“Good, good, Natasha and Clint are a pain-.”

Steve can’t wait anymore and interrupts, “Bruce, do you know anything about other worlds?”

“What?”

That threw a curve ball, Steve thinks and smiles. He repeats the question. “Like other worlds, do you know anything about them?”

“Like other planets, like Mars and Jupiter?”

Steve scratches the scruff on his neck and says, “No, not exactly. Like other possible Earths or maybe other possible times?”

“Other realities? Are you talking about other realities, Steve?” 

He can almost see the perplexed look on Bruce’s face. “I guess. What if, what if there were other possibilities of other things happening.”

“Other realities? Yes, that is theorized.” Bruce says. “What’s this about?”

“Could one person cross over from one reality to another?” Steve asks. He pulls the blanket up and shivers. 

“You know it might be better to talk to Reed Richards about this, I’m not the other realities kind of guy.”

“Really?” Steve asks and wants to ask him what kind of guy he is, because it has always confused Steve what Bruce’s actual training is in – other than smashing and that’s not technically Bruce, that’s the other guy.

“Yeah, not really.”

“Could you take your best guess?” Steve says. “Is it possible one person could cross between realities and retain some of the memories of the other reality?”

“I would assume so,” Bruce says. “I don’t see why not. Timelines might be a little trickier.”

“Timelines, why?” Steve says because it occurs to him that he might actually be referring to timelines and not other realities. This all confuses him greatly. 

“Well, if you move from the future into the past on a time line you would retain the information,” Bruce explains. “But if you’re in the past and jump to the future you wouldn’t have the intervening information.”

Steve sighs. This is getting him nowhere. “Okay.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, thanks Bruce.”

There’s silence for a few seconds from the other end of the line and then a question, “Steve, what’s this all about?”

“Nothing, I just-.” He grasps at straws and says, “I heard about Pepper and Tony. How’s he doing?” Tony has occupied so many of his dreams and visions or seizures of late.

“Oh Tony, I-.” Bruce starts again. “He’s, he’s coping?”

“Is that another word for drinking?”

“Sometimes,” Bruce replies. “But it’s getting better, much better.”

“Good, thanks Bruce,” Steve says and then adds, “Don’t tell Tony I called, okay?”

“Um, okay?” he says it in a hesitant manner. “Call again sometime?”

“I’ll try.” 

As soon as Steve hangs up, his eyes flicker and he’s thrown into another seizure. The images come at him faster but are also more defined and complete. He sees Tony with ghostly images around him, surrounding him, and he’s in the middle of explaining something to Steve.

\--Not sure I understand---

\--Trapped in a singularity---

\--Flung out of space-time---

\---Trapped in a singularity---

He emerges from the seizure spent and shaking, laying on the floor. Crawling over to the bed, he curls on the thin mattress and starts to piece together the words and images he’s heard. Maybe he’s off his rocker or as they say in this day and age, nuts. Or that other thing, they call it post-traumatic stress or something. Maybe the serum is failing him. But he knows, knows down in some hidden hollows that it isn’t that, it is something beyond – it is something more.

Over the course of the next three months, Steve begins to lose weight and can’t sleep through the night. Logan becomes increasingly agitated and brings an herbalist over to examine Steve. The Japanese man prescribes special teas and meditation techniques. Steve is genuinely charmed by the man but knows nothing will help. He thinks something else is happening but he won’t confess it to Logan, not yet, not when he doesn’t have all the memories, he wants to finish the story.

The seizures continue and he’s spent and exhausted most of the time. Logan wants to bring him to the medical research institute in Tokyo, Steve refuses. He’s had enough with doctors for the rest of his life, and he doesn’t think the doctors can help. He calls Bruce again and gets Reed Richards’ number. He doesn’t use it. 

He asks Logan to buy him a sketch book and charcoal, which Logan interprets as a good sign. He brings back a variety of books, pencils, pastels, and even some parchment with inks and pens. Steve smiles and thanks him. That night they make a slow, almost painful kind of love. Logan holds Steve close to him, rocking into him in a deliberate, measured pace. It torments Steve just enough so that he’s close but not enough to send him over the edge. He begs for release, but Logan keeps the pace, his motion slow and easy until it drives Steve to the edge of insanity and then Logan strokes Steve’s erection until he shoots and his back arches. 

Logan murmurs as they both come down from the high of orgasm. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.”

With hands on either side of Logan’s face, Steve says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

But it is an unspoken truth that they both believe, that they both know: Steve is dying. Logan only huddles close into the crook of Steve’s shoulder and wraps his body around him for the rest of the night. 

The next morning Steve starts to draw. It is manic and desperate. Hours and days go by and he focuses on the work, he lifts his head to welcome Logan home, he kisses and loves Logan, but his main mission becomes the paper. He fills book upon book. It looks like he’s writing a comic book, panel upon panel of experiences and memories that shouldn’t be in his head. They are all there. The product he comes out with begins to make sense when he tears all the pages out, cuts the panels, and assembles them in what he thinks is chronological order. 

It takes him hours and he sits on the patio cross legged and in a sweater because it is cold and Logan worries about him constantly. As he finishes his task, he realizes the story isn’t finished. The last panel has Logan stabbing him in the heart. He only fishes out all of the drawings when Logan isn’t around because he doesn’t want to upset him. While Logan could handle an alien apocalypse, Steve’s not so sure about the rest, especially the drawings representing what Tony and Steve mean or will mean or have meant to one another. 

He presses his fingers at this temples, this is all too confusing and frustrating. He points to the beginning, a large ship descending on New York. There are several drawings he did of politicians and pundits. All over them he scribbled useless debates and banter. The panels change to a world in flames and people dying. He has numbers on them – 1000, then 150,000, and then it reaches to the millions and finally billions. 

Throughout this, he has panels of the Avengers fighting. He’s with them. There’s one special panel he loves very much. It is a panel of Steve and Tony kissing. It should shame him, he does feel guilt, but he knows this is right; this is how it is supposed to be. The story goes on and it becomes about survival until it transforms into the plan. 

The strategy and the so-called God Machine he’s noted on the panels. He writes the perfect Seed across one panel with his own face. Several panels he has Tony dialoguing discussing a singularity and trapping the aliens in time. Saving the world and resetting it. He starts to understand the plan hinges on Steve and Logan. He starts to understand he’s living a false life.

He shuffles all the papers into his portfolio when Logan comes home that night. The setting sun throws amber light over Logan as he stands in the door frame of their small house in the fishing village. The shoji doors are open and the paper rustles a little in the breeze. 

“Doing better?” Logan asks. 

“Much,” Steve says and zips closed his portfolio. He stands up and Logan moves aside as they enter the house. 

“I brought home dinner,” Logan points to the paper bags on the counter. “Thought maybe we could eat in bed.”

“Logan,” Steve says with a rueful smile. 

“I like that you’re doing better, that you haven’t had an episode in a while. That’s good, the drawing seems to help,” Logan points to the bag. “Care to share?”

Steve shifts it away from Logan’s reach. “Not really.”

“Not ready for prime time?” 

“What?”

Logan chuckles and reaches for the bag, when Steve steps away he only opens his hands in surrender. “Just put the bag down.” 

Steve tosses it to the side and Logan enfolds Steve in his arms. The kiss lingers and heats him. He groans into Logan’s mouth and then Logan is moving away, trailing kisses, tasting and sucking a line against his jaw. Logan leans in and scrapes his beard against Steve’s throat, the sensation reminiscent of another time, another love, and it throws him, launches him into a full flung assault of images and memories which aren’t real. 

The images attack him with the rapidity of automatic gunfire. He cannot escape it; it slams into his mind over and again. He lives each moment fully realized and he blacks in and out of the memories. His eyes flicker open only momentarily until he’s hauled away again by the grip of the images. When he finally wakes up completely, he’s lying in the bed. Logan sits across from him in a chair, legs crossed, a hand over his mouth, and the sketchbooks tucked to the side of the chair. The leather portfolio case is open and empty. 

Steve eases up on his elbows and tries to speak, but his mouth is parched and his lips chapped. He finally croaks out, “What?”

“Yeah,” Logan says. His eyes are dark with worry and something else, something provocative. “You’ve been out for two days.”

Steve hisses and drops down on the bed, pushing his fingers into his eyes. “I’m okay, I’m good.” He knows that is not going to satisfy Logan. He pushes the sheet away and climbs to his feet. His head swims but he’s able to make it to the bathroom to relieve himself without a major disaster happening. When he returns, Logan has some of the sketches on his lap and he’s studying them.

“This is what you’re seeing, isn’t it?”

Steve stops. He has no idea what to say, he never wanted Logan to see the drawings. 

Logan pulls out the one where he’s stabbing Steve in the chest. It dangles from his fingertips as if it the paper itself drips with blood. “You’re seeing this.”

Steve feels the flush of heat on his face, and then Logan slides out another drawing and it is of Tony and Steve making love. Steve turns his face away and feels the hot prickle of tears in his eyes. 

“This is a fantasy or is it real, Steve?” Logan asks. When Steve doesn’t answer, just stands there and races in his mind trying to rectify his reality with the here and now, Logan snarls, “What the hell is going on? Is this what you’ve been seeing?”

“Yes, damn it, yes!” Steve says and he can’t help but let his heart jump in his chest as he admits it. “Yes, I’m seeing that like it’s a whole different life.”

“Like a life that you want?”

“What?”

Logan tugs out another drawing and it is a portrait of Tony, just a portrait with the words scrawled over them – _My husband_. “What the hell is going on Steve?”

Steve folds his hands over his face and says, “Yes, yes, that’s what I’ve been seeing. That’s what’s happening every time.” He sighs and the burden completely releases then as he says, “You think it quieted down but it’s only gotten worse. I have them all day when you’re gone. When I’m not drawing, I’m seizing.”

“Jesus Christ,” Logan says. “What the hell are you doing? This is serious shit.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Steve says. “I can make them happen now.”

“What?” Logan tenses, his nostrils flare and his fists clench. “You make them happen? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying to find out what the hell is going on, okay?” Steve says. He grabs the pictures. “These, these are my only clue. Something’s wrong. Something’s different. I want to know what and why.”

“Because we’re not good enough for you?”

“No, because if this happens,” Steve flips to the alien invasion. “We have to take warning and do something about it. Please, Logan, this is about more than us.”

Logan glares at him, but his anger deflates a degree and he tears the paper out of Steve’s hand. “What do you make of it?”

“Not sure,” Steve says and is glad they are on more sane ground. He searches the drawings and points out the one with Tony surrounded by his holographic images. “Singularity. It all has to do with this.”

Logan considers him and then says, “You want to talk to Stark?”

Steve weighs his question, but not because he’s not only concerned about Logan’s response but more because he needs the right expert. “No, I want to talk to Reed Richards.”

“Who?”

“Fantastic Four, he knows a lot about the space time, other realities thing,” Steve says and leaves it at that because he really has no idea what he’s talking about. 

“Then we go,” Logan says. 

“We don’t – we can call him,” Steve says because he doesn’t want to go running off and away. He wants to figure out what is going on and why. He’s had the phone number for months now. He goes to the small table near the chair, opens the drawer, and pulls out his phone. He checks the time and figures it is probably okay to call Richards. But he doesn’t really know where Richards is, the man is always traveling.

He puts the phone on speaker. When Richards answers he only says, “Richards.”

“Doctor Richards, it’s Steve Rogers.”

“Steve Rogers?”

“Captain America,” Steve adds.

“Oh, what can I do for you?” Richards asks and he can hear a few computer keys being tapped. 

“I wanted to ask you-.” Steve starts to explain the whole of his situation from the memories, to the seizures, to the events that he has been privy to through his episodes. “Can you make anything of it?”

“You say these aliens are like liquid and need a solid sentient being to fuel a machine and to bring them sentience?”

“As far as I understand it, sir,” Steve says.

“Well, from my observations of other realities, that’s the Ornari. I’ve only rarely heard of them in the different realities I’ve studied.”

Steve’s heart plunges. It’s real. They are real and they are coming for them. He grabs hold of Logan’s shoulder and says, “Do you have any information on if you think they are targeting our reality?”

Richards pauses before he answers, “Strange you should ask that, according to my counterpart in one of the other realities, I would say no, not anymore.”

“I don’t understand, sir?”

“It seems the Ornari disappeared a short while ago. We can’t trace them at all.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Steve says.

“That and the fact you described flinging them backward in time and then trapping them in a singularity.”

“So, this can’t happen now?” Steve says and flips through the pages and pages of sketches. 

“It can and did,” Richards says. “For you, Captain. For the rest of us, no, it never happened and never will.”

“What’s so special about me?” Steve asks. Logan huffs a little at his side.

“You were in the singularity, you are the singularity,” Richards answers and it seems cryptic and mysterious. “You were central to their Core as you said, you became the singularity and trapped them, Steve. You controlled them through the code that was written by Stark. You control the singularity. It must have been brilliant code, wish I could have seen it. Stark, that bastard. The Ornari are in the endless loop.”

He staggers a bit. “But does that mean I’ll have these seizures the rest of my life?”

“You said you’ve learned to bring them on yourself?” Richards asks.

“Yes.”

“While I’m not a medical doctor, I would say that you can learn to control them entirely. Figure out what the triggers are and you’ll be able to either remove them, recognize them, and stop the seizures.”

“I have a question,” Logan pops up.

“Oh, um, yes? Who is this?” 

“Just don’t worry about it, I was there too. I was the one who delivered the code to cause the Ornari to be flung into this singularity shit. Why don’t I have seizures?” Logan asks.

Richards sighs over the phone and then says, “I can only imagine it is because Steve was hooked up to the God Machine as he calls it. He and all the Ornari were connected through his interface. You were only connected through you adamantium claw. I would assume that would leave you behind because it is poison to the Ornari as you said. I would also assume both Stark and the Black Widow were already dead and would not have been integrated as Steve was but absorbed if I follow what you told me, Captain.”

“Oh,” Logan says and twists up his face. “That makes all kinds of sense.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Richards sounds too pleased with himself.

“No,” Logan adds. “Not really.”

Richards is silent over the connection. Steve chimes in and says, “Thank you, Doctor Richards, you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Anytime, Captain, anytime.”

Steve disconnects the call and both Logan and Steve stand staring at one another as if they are in some kind of strange contest. Steve waits and when Logan doesn’t make a remark, he says, “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Logan walks a distance away from Steve, picks up one of the drawings and studies it. His finger lines the curves of it, smearing it only slightly. He peers over his shoulder at Steve and then back to the drawing. “I’m going out.”

He disappears for three days. 

Logan comes back angry and dirty like he’s been in one too many bar brawls. Steve is sleeping when he comes through the door in the middle of the night. He wakes and watches as Logan crawls into bed. Steve pulls him to his chest and kisses the back of his neck. Logan doesn’t respond, he only shifts away from Steve and leaves the bed. Steve spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling and listening to the crickets outside.

Since his telephone conversation with Richards, Steve finds little need to continue to draw the events of his visions. In fact, they decrease and he only has them when he lets his thoughts stray or he sees something that reminds him of those days that weren’t. By summer, he hasn’t had one in three weeks. He uses drawing to center himself as the herbalist tells him to do. He studies the ancient art of the Japanese Tea Ceremony as well as Japanese painting to calm his nerves. It assists him in controlling the seizures and the thoughts which might cause him to have one. He can even think of the memories without falling down the rabbit hole. 

His relationship with Logan unravels. But he tries, he does. When Logan comes to him, Steve offers himself up and they make a frantic almost desperate love which never quite satisfies and leaves Steve hungry and desolate. It is mid-summer when he comes home from the fish market to find Logan packing.

“You’re leaving.”

“You knew I would, kid.” Logan shoves the white t-shirts into his satchel. “You’ve wanted to for months.”

“I don-.”

“Don’t lie, you’re Captain America,” Logan says and rifles through the small bureau of drawers they share for their meager belongings. “You’ve wanted to get back in the game. I’ve seen you watching the television, reading the reports on the webpages about the Avengers.”

What he isn’t saying is clear and loud. He’s seen Steve watching Tony. Yes, he’s been interested in going back to the USA, to finding his place amongst the Avengers again since before this all started to happen. They fought about it endlessly, but now his attention and curiosity has changed and shifted to Tony. 

“I won’t lie.”

Logan stops his rummaging and turns to Steve. He holds a few articles of clothing and Steve’s dog tags. He places the tags on the bureau and stuffs the rest into his bag. “I’ll be seeing you, kid.”

Before he can pick up the bag, Steve crosses the room, picks up the tags, and places them in Logan’s hand. “I don’t know why this happened the last time, I can’t say. But I do know that I love you, I always will.”

“You love me, but not like you’ll love him,” Logan says and his eyes are pools of dark questions and quests which Steve cannot answer, and cannot follow. Logan squeezes his hand closed over the tags, and then puts them in his jacket’s chest pocket, near his heart. He leans into Steve and he wraps his arms around him. “I love you, Steve, you son of a bitch, I’ll love you forever.”

“I know,” Steve says and his words are muffled as he hides his face in Logan’s shoulder. He wants to say it back and, in some ways, he can, but he knows it isn’t fair. It can never be fair. He may hold on a bit too long, but he wants to feel the strength of this man one more time, he wants to smell him and know him just one last time. He moves and lingers as his lips press against a willing mouth. There are truths he cannot confess, there are words he cannot define and actions he cannot make – but he wants to show Logan, he wants Logan to understand. After all is said and done, Logan has always and will always have meaning in Steve’s life.

It is Logan who pulls away. His mouth bruised and slightly parted. He leans his forehead on Steve’s and says, “Promise me, if that bastard gives you shit you’ll come back to me.”

Steve smiles and the warmth that has always meant Logan suffuses up his spine. “I promise.”

Logan separates and picks up the bag from the bed. He walks to the door, pauses, and turns. “You’ve always been a good man, Steve. Don’t, don’t beat yourself up about this. You did the right thing, in that other time. You did the right thing.”

He leaves without another word and the world grows cold and bereft.

  
When Steve’s plane lands and he takes his single carry on and walks out of the gate, there is no one there to meet him on arrival. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and finds the rental car area. He pulls out his credit card and charges the cost of a rental. He’s not sure what he’s doing, or what he’s planning. He has one thing to do in New York City and after that, he’ll decide later.

He drives slowly to Manhattan, watching the traffic and the people. He hasn’t been in the United States for over a year. He finds it ironic that Captain America is a stranger in his own home. What he discovered while traveling with Logan was that the entire world presented a kind of culture shock to him and trying to escape the truth would never allow him to adjust to the new world he’s found himself in. He hasn’t thought of the ice or the early time right after he awoke in a long time, but now it seems ever present and unrelenting. 

Everything about his life before his journey, before his great venture outward to the world seems to press down on him like the great hand of gravity. He tries to dial down the worry, the uneasiness of the past while at the same time he also tries to decrease his anticipation for the future. He wants certain things, but it is clear this isn’t the future he sees, this is different and all variables are in play. He has one chance, he thinks, to make this right.

He will not delay.

He fights traffic to navigate toward Stark Tower. He squints at it when he sees the big ugly building in downtown Manhattan, realizing that Tony never fixed the name of the building. A single ‘A’ still stands on it as its label and he considers it before he finds a garage to park this rental. He walks the four blocks back to the Stark Tower and wonders if Tony calls it the A Tower now. 

He knows that Bruce is still about; he also knows that the rumors were confirmed some time ago that Tony and Pepper broke up. Things from there get fuzzy because he spent the better part of the last few months with his brain on fire and his head exploding. He tries not to think of that. He has the shield on his back, the shield he hasn’t used or touched in any real capacity in as long. When he walks through the door and announces himself, he knows this will become his life again. He will not be able to hide. He will not be able to deny his persona of Captain America.

Is he ready for that?

Will he find a way to come back to it all? He doesn’t even hesitate when he walks through the automatic revolving door into the chrome and glass lobby of the Tower. A receptionist greets him and when he answers her questions with his name she types it quickly into the computer and says, “You can go right up to the Penthouse, sir. JARVIS will announce you.”

“Okay, hmm, thank you?” He frowns. He knows who JARVIS is only because of his memories; he’d thought that the A.I. had been a special character for that reality and it concerns him but not overly so. He has no idea what Tony’s cooked up over the years. They are, after all, really only strangers. 

How can they be strangers when he remembers making love to Tony?

He touches his bare ring finger and his heart hammers in great thuds in his chest as if Thor beats it. He tries to steady his breathing as he hits the elevator button, but fails. He feels like a skinny weakling again, trying to ask a dame out for a dinner. That never went over well either.

He steps onto the lift and the A.I. welcomes him. “Captain Rogers, you are on the designated list for access to the Penthouse.”

“Thank you, JARVIS. Can you, is it possible for you to tell me who else is on the list?” He knows it is unreasonable and irrational to think he is on the list because Tony remembers, somehow knows all the possibilities of a past, present, future that does not exist. 

“That list is only accessible to Sir, Captain Rogers, but you do have permission to know that all of the Avengers are on the list.”

“Oh,” Steve says and his heart sinks and he knows it is ridiculous and stupid. “Thanks, JARVIS.”

“May I say, Captain Rogers, you seem well adjusted to your present. You didn’t even blink an eye when I addressed you.”

Steve shakes his head and looks down, then back up at the ceiling. He still can’t break that habit. “Let’s just say in another time and place, we kind of met before.”

“If you say so, Captain Rogers.”

“I do indeed, I do indeed.” Steve rides the rest of the way up in silence. Once the elevator attains the penthouse floor JARVIS announces it and the door opens. He walks out of the elevator and scans the open layout. No one is around. “Hello?”

“Sir is currently taking the latest version of the Iron Man armor for a test run as he calls it, Captain Rogers.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says and slides the bag with his clothes and the shield to the floor. 

“You are welcome to anything at the bar or in the kitchen. I can direct you to the kitchen.”

“Um, no, thanks, JARVIS.”

He tentatively wanders around the large expanse of the room. He can’t believe anyone lives like this. It is like living at the top of the world. But, of course, that is Tony’s personality, all swagger and arrogance. He smiles, but he’s not really like that at all. He’s smart and funny, and silly, very silly sometimes. He likes to hide behind the swagger and the snarky remarks. He likes to frighten people away with his brilliance. Steve knows better, Steve cannot be turned away. He can’t be blocked by any foolish armor or self-protection modes. Steve has seen Tony laid bare in his soul. He knows him. 

He tugs off his jacket and gently folds it onto the couch but hears whirling sounds and turns on his heel. The glass doors open and the floor to the balcony of the building disappears as rings rise up. He listens as the sounds grow louder, more concentrated, more familiar. 

He reminds himself as he watches, as he observes that this Tony does not know him, does not love him. They do not share a life, they have not shared life and death together. They’ve only shared moments, lost and forgotten. Yet, there is the possibility of more. He longs for more.

The Iron Man armor lands on the platform. Tony stands without moving, obviously unaware of Steve’s presence. The faceplate retracts and he says, “Let’s skip the spinning wheels, we have some work to do on this one and I think I should be-.”

Tony stops and tilts his head. “JARVIS, you did not say we had company.”

“Sir, Captain Rogers is waiting in the Penthouse main lounge for you.”

“Why, thank you, my smart ass A.I.”

“It is always a pleasure, sir.”

As Tony stands on the platform, the afternoon sun glints off of the metallic armor like facets of jewels. It blinds and beguiles Steve at the same time. He should say something, but his words are jumbled and mixed up. Should he expect this Tony to be his Tony? Should he hope for the same outcome? Should he ask this of this Tony? 

“On second thought, JARVIS, I think I need the armor removed.” Tony steps along the walk way as an automatic robotic system removes the armor. Once he is fully in the apartment, he stands in a black t-shirt with some modern band’s name etched on the front of it, the arc reactor glowing, and his jeans slung slightly lower than where Steve knows his navel to be. Just the thought of that reddens Steve’s face. He has to physically force himself back into the moment, force the flickering images threatening at the edge of his awareness to settle.

“Hmm, Captain, wanna share?”

Steve bows his head but is drawn back to Tony, so he looks up again with a smile on his face. He should answer the question, he should do something. But he sees all the other moments in his life before him. He whispers a quiet chant telling himself; it is just a memory, just a wish, a prayer. It calms him down before his brain seizes and he smiles at Tony. 

The life he wants is before him, open and waiting. He has no other words. He knows they are not the right ones, but they are the ones he has, for today, for tomorrow, and because of yesterday. 

“Give me a chance.” What he longs to say, what he wants to say is _I love you._ He feels muted, gutted that he cannot, that there are memories in his head which do not belong to him, but feel right and more like him than any of his real memories.

“A chance? Not following Capsicle.”

He lifts a shoulder. “I think-. I think we can be a good team, Tony. I think, if we try, we could be friends.”

Tony eyes him, studying him like he’s not sure, as if he might be a predator about to strike.

“A lot has happened, I’m-.” He doesn’t want to say different, because Tony didn’t really know him to begin with, except for old stories from Howard and film reels. So he falters and can only come up with the simplest of words. “We’d make a good team, Tony.”

“You can come back to the Avengers at any time, Steve, you don’t need my permission.”

“I know that, but-.” How does he say all the words that he needs to say without betraying a future that may or may not exist. “I think, I know it’s important for you to trust me. For us, you and me, not just the Avengers, but you and me to be a team.”

“Trust you?” Tony searches his expression again.

“Yes, trust me.” The sun from behind Tony catches around him like a halo of fire. 

This time Tony cocks only a single eyebrow and Steve expects him to say something to the effect of ‘is that so’, or ‘what have you been smoking old man’ or a number of other things. But something odd and wonderful happens, Tony’s face goes soft and tender, a fleeting look of adoration in his eyes appears and then fades. 

“If you trust me, you won’t regret it, I promise.” Steve wants to confess all the images and stolen memories, wants to bleed them out so that he shares his life with Tony through his blood itself. But he can’t, he can’t force Tony to love him, to know what they’ve shared even though it feels more real to him than his life now. He offers his empty hands and says, “Tell me, you’ll give me the chance.”

The air around them prickles and he feels it like static electricity. He can almost identify the moment things click into place, the moment Tony decides. They are standing ten feet apart and it might as well be across a great divide, but then Tony does something that builds the first step towards a different future, their future. He throws his head back and laughs. It is wild and brilliant, and full of promise. When he looks back at Steve, he answers with a smile that dances in his eyes.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Where does this go from here? I hope one day to tell you the rest of the story. At some point in time, there might be sequel. I know there's more to this story - I hope one day you will revisit me and read the rest when I've posted it!
> 
> To find out what I am posting lately follow me on [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com).
> 
> I have received birthday art for this story as well [krusca](http://artingkrusca.tumblr.com/post/109988059248/the-sun-from-behind-tony-catches-around-him-like-a) \- give it some love too!
> 
> For those interested in a possible sequel - the first part is here:
> 
> _Steve lies on the bed, alone and staring. He isn’t looking at the high cathedral ceiling, the arching walls of his sparkling apartment in the Avengers’ Tower. He concentrates on the middle distance, the ground between realities where he can see and experience and feel the touch of someone he once loved, but who doesn’t love him anymore, never loved him. He lies there, unafraid as he does, letting the seizure overtake him. It is the only time he can visit the reality of his other life, the life he dreamed up._
> 
> _While he knows he may very well have dreamed everything up, he also recognizes he never did at all. Yet the loss he feels guts him to the edge of sanity, until he wants to throw himself into the dream, into the seizures and never surface again. Why should he try and continue in this world, when he has nothing left to hold onto._
> 
> _He’s lost everything._
> 
>   _Logan._
> 
>   _Tony._
> 
>   _All he has left are the dreams, and so he triggers them again and again until his mind blurs and he cannot surface, until he’s lost, a distant relic of himself, to time and distance and space._  
> 


End file.
